


The Secret Thoughts of Miss Ann Walker

by Mircalla74



Category: Gentleman Jack (TV), The Secret Diaries of Miss Anne Lister (2010)
Genre: Ann Walker's teenage years, Anne Lister and her pocket watch, Bas Bleu, Canon Compliant, F/F, Fascinating Anne Lister, How to attract Anne Lister's attention when you have very little to say, Is it still unrequited love when you don't know it's love you are feeling?, Masturbation, Pre-Canon, Sexual Fantasy, Taking a few passages from a 200 year old diary and running away with it!, Teen Angst, The term 'Artistic License' should be used here!, Unrequited Crush, hnng
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:54:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 58,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22155097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mircalla74/pseuds/Mircalla74
Summary: Ann Walker is a teenager. Painfully shy, socially isolated, and awkward with people outside of her immediate family. Her older sister Elizabeth feels that it's time that Ann was bought out of herself a little, and in doing so accidentally introduces Ann to their utterly charming, endlessly fascinating, and casually domineering neighbour, Miss Anne Lister of Shibden Hall.Now extended, so I can include the 'Monstrous, pedantic and disagreeable girl' passage.
Relationships: Anne Lister (1791-1840)/Ann Walker (1803-1854)
Comments: 166
Kudos: 390





	1. Pink Ribbons

**Author's Note:**

> Tuesday 2 September 1817 [Halifax]  
> Spent the whole of the morning in vamping up a pair of old black chamois shoes & getting my things ready to go & drink tea at Cliff-hill. As soon as I was dressed, went to drink tea with the Miss Walkers of Cliff-hill. Went in black silk, the 1st time to an evening visit. I have entered upon my plan of always wearing black.
> 
> The Secret Diaries Of Miss Anne Lister: Vol. 1 Helena Whitbread

Elizabeth Walker is eager for her younger sister, Ann, to start attending evening social events. At 14, Ann is ready to start meeting Halifax society with her family. It’s time for her to build up acquaintances with other young women. Give her a run in, before her Mother and Aunts will determine that it’s also time for her to start to build up acquaintances with young men. 

Aunt Ann Walker at Cliff Hill is planning an evening soiree with their neighbours, the Lister’s, and so Elizabeth, Ann, and their Mother, are all invited too. Aunt Ann is thrilled with having secured the Lister ladies to agree to visit her in the evening. The Lister’s are not social creatures, but they are intelligent and well-bred company. Elizabeth informs Ann that everyone in Halifax will be jealous that they are to spend an evening in the company of Miss Lister. Her reputation as a Bas Bleu goes before her, and many young women in Halifax are keen to maintain any sort of friendship they can with her. 

When the day comes around, Ann, her Mother and Elizabeth have their hair dressed, and their gowns prepared by their maids. Mrs Walker is keen for her girls to look as pretty and as well-groomed as possible. Each girl has flaxen hair, blue eyes and an open, innocent face. Neither will be great beauties, but good grooming and exquisite accessories provide a lift for all girls, Mrs Walker believes. Their money might be new, but it is great. Both girls will wear their diamond earrings and pendants this evening, their Mother demands. 

Elizabeth is more outgoing, but only because her sister is so very quiet by comparison. Ann would dearly love to get out of this somehow, but the clock is ticking and the time is almost upon them to leave for Cliff Hill. There is no hope, now. Aunt Ann is expecting them. 

When they arrive at 7pm, the Lister chaise is already in the drive. Walking into Aunt Ann’s drawing room behind their Mother, Ann and Elizabeth approach the elder Miss Lister and her niece, shaking hands with each. The young Miss Lister shakes Ann’s hand quickly, but she flashes a smile that takes Ann’s breath away. Everything about the young woman is enthralling, and Ann is instantly reminded of what her sister had said about how people will be jealous. However, as soon as they have shaken hands with their Aunts guests, Elizabeth and Ann are guided to share a sofa seat at the side of the room. This seat is the furthest of any from the sofa that Miss Lister and her Aunt are sharing across the room. 

Ann is listening intently, determined to remember everything that their fascinating guest has to say. But she talks so quickly, covering so many diverse subjects, that Ann struggles to keep up. In fairness, Miss Lister lost Ann when she attempted to start a debate on Greek philosophy. Really, Miss Lister lost her Aunt Ann and Elizabeth then too. Only they pretend that they are following her train of thought precisely, agreeing furiously with all she has to say. Ann knows that her family are practically as clueless as she is on such a subject, and their pandering to Miss Lister makes Ann smile. Even her Aunt Ann defers to this much younger woman, affording her such respect. How marvellous must it be to be able to hold a room in thrall, thinks Ann. How simple this feat appears to be in the hands of their guest. 

Miss Lister looks across the room, scanning her eyes past Elizabeth and Ann, finally landing on their Mother, asking her about Crow Nest. Something about the ground between their estates becoming softer and often marshy. Ann tries to steer her gaze away from the exuberant young woman, becoming aware that she is staring at her far too much to be polite, although no-one seems to have noticed, least of all the object of her esteem. She looks down, and finds herself staring at Miss Lister’s black chamois shoes, dusty where the leather sole meets the ageing fabric. Her black silk pelisse has specks of mud dotted lightly about the hem. How long her legs seem to be, thought Ann. Her eyes begin to rise again, up to Miss Lister’s hands. Her animated hands working as exclamation marks as she speaks with such passion and confidence. Miss Lister’s eyes flash with brilliance. A small pocket at the waist of her pelisse reveals a watch chain, as a gentleman would wear across his waistcoat, silver pocket watch contained within. 

As Ann fixes her gaze on it, Miss Lister instinctively moves to remove her watch from its pocket, spinning it on its chain, flipping it in one hand, spinning it in the other, as she continues the conversation. Aunt Anne Lister joins in about the cost of educating young women today, and the absolute importance of it, holding her niece up as an example. Ann is in awe of this young woman. She wonders how it might be possible to strike up some sort of friendship with her, in spite of Ann being so much younger. They are neighbours after all, and as Ann is so quiet, perhaps Miss Lister would mistake this for maturity? She would be happy to simply sit and be, in Miss Lister’s charming and exuberant company. 

Ann tunes back into the conversation as her Aunt Ann is telling Miss Lister and her Aunt that the Walkers attend Lightcliffe church regularly, but have yet to see the Lister’s there. Isn't it the closest for them too? Miss Lister doesn't wait for her Aunt to formulate a reply, and launches into how St John's was equally close for them, and that Lister’s have had a pew at the old church for generations. 'Our arms are painted on the ceiling', Miss Lister states with pride. Aunt Anne Lister puffs up slightly too, at Miss Lister's words. After four pots of tea, a cake, several biscuits and about 55 minutes, the Lister’s stand to leave. Aunt Anne Lister thanking Aunt Ann Walker for the invitation, and pleasant company. Miss Lister shakes Aunt Ann’s hand, then Mrs Walker’s. She nods across the room, towards Elizabeth and Ann. No further invitation is extended to join the Lister’s for tea at Shibden Hall, however. It couldn’t really be expected. The Lister’s keep their circle very small indeed. 

Ann decides there and then, that one Sunday soon, she too will be attending morning service at St John's. All she has to do is to convince her sister Elizabeth to go with her. This, it turns out, is the easiest thing in the world to do. One of the various young men that Elizabeth has her eye on may also be at the Parish Church, and with this as encouragement, Elizabeth is arranging the horses for Sunday with their groom. But not before she chooses the perfect gown and hat. Elizabeth sets the date – they will attend in four days’ time.

No time at all for Ann to change her mind. Not now all is arranged. Plenty of time for Ann to become anxious. What if Miss Lister isn’t there? What if she is there? What does Ann actually want to say to her? Ann cannot think of anything at all. She just wants to be in the same room as her again, just to be in her presence, to be able to look at her, to listen to her talk in her unrestrained way. If anyone asked Ann, she would not be able to explain why. 

The Misses Walker arrive at St John’s with 5 minutes to go before the service starts. Their groom helps them out of the Walker chaise, and into the large and intimidating old church. They soon find seats near the back. Elizabeth immediately scans the pews for her potential beau. She is almost instantly disappointed by his absence. Ann doesn’t need to look far to find who she hoped to see. 

Miss Anne Lister is standing with her Aunt and Uncle, in their private box pew, much closer to the altar. Her back is poker straight - she has incredible posture, Ann notices. Ann wishes she could stand so well herself, but too often her spine felt almost too weak for her to stand for long at all. She is dressed head to toe in black silk, with a plush, black velvet spencer covering her broad back and shoulders. Her dark hair in ringlets, under her black velvet hat. She cuts a striking figure amongst the Sunday morning crowd. Ann is utterly transfixed. The service follows the same liturgy as Lightcliffe, but the organ has both greater depth and clarity, the choir more tuneful, and the congregation here includes all of the oldest families in Halifax. 

When the time comes to take the sacrament, Ann notices that Miss Lister doesn't move. She sees her Aunt look across at her, her mouth making the shapes of words Ann cannot determine. Miss Lister suddenly jolts, and stands quickly to follow her Aunt from the pews. She hadn't been asleep, had she? The idea makes Ann feel almost giddy. What sort of person sits so close to the curate, and then falls asleep through his sermon? Miss Lister doesn't seem easily swayed by social conventions, and this thrills Ann, who has never been brave enough to even say that she didn't want to wear the pink ribbons her Aunt Ann had sent her. She prefers blue. Or yellow. Ann thinks how from now on, she won't wear the pink ones. She feels buoyed up in the presence of Miss Lister, even from 12 pews away. Seeing her do as she wishes, encourages Ann that she could do the same. Occasionally, at least. She will start with the ribbons. See how that goes over with her family. 

Miss Lister returns to her seat, even before it is time for Ann and Elizabeth to make their way to the altar. And as she returns, she stands very slightly on tiptoe. Her neck stretched, scanning the pews behind her, searching for someone. Ann wonders at first who she might be looking for, when she feels Miss Lister’s penetrating eyes lock on hers. Her stomach somersaults. Miss Lister nods, and smiles a smile in her direction which makes Ann feel euphoric. All the time Miss Lister had sat drinking tea in her Aunt Ann's favourite sitting room at Cliff Hill, she never once so much as glanced at either Ann or Elizabeth. It seems so unlikely, and strangely thrilling, that she would now single Ann out from all the faces in the congregation. As this thought passes through Ann's mind, the heavy weight of realisation holds her back. Ann turns slowly to peek in the pews behind her, and finds the beautiful Miss Browne, meeting Miss Lister's gaze and returning it with a coy smile. Ann turns back quickly, looking down, no longer keen to look at Miss Lister. She feels what? Defeat? Is that really it? Miss Browne is well known as being one the prettiest ladies in Halifax. Her delicate features, luminous skin, soft curls, and the vast array of elegant and well-chosen dresses and accessories her father lavishes upon her, make her a sought after companion. 

Ann is 14. Awkward. Painfully shy. All too often silent. She knows now that she has no hope in becoming friends with Miss Lister. She has absolutely nothing to offer her in return. Her eyes are scorched by the threatening burn of her tears. 

"I suddenly feel quite weak, Elizabeth" Ann says quietly. 

Elizabeth looks at Ann, slumped forwards in the pew. "Oh Ann!" Elizabeth whispers urgently, as she bends to gently rub Ann's narrow back, "Does it hurt a lot?" 

"Like never before" Ann says, quietly. 

Ann remains in her seat, as the congregation takes the sacrament, Elizabeth at her side to comfort her. The service is almost over, and then they can leave. Ann cannot wait to get out of the strange church, into their familiar carriage and away back home to Crows Nest. She feels grateful that they will be out and away well before any of the Lister’s can spot them. Next week they will be back at Lightcliffe, the flirtation with new Sunday experiences over.


	2. The Usual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ann Walker is almost 15, it is Spring, in the year of Our Lord 1818. 
> 
> She joins her sister Elizabeth on a jaunt into Halifax, on the search for information about a young man Elizabeth likes. On the way home, the sisters see Miss Lister.
> 
> Also, sorry about the nod to 'The League of Gentlemen'! I was watching it whilst writing!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thursday 16 April 1818[Halifax]
> 
> Mrs Rawson asked after M— & if they went on any better than they did, adding significantly, ‘You have never been there since the 1st time.’ I smiled (I could not help it) & carelessly answered, no, I had not & that I had heard the same remark made before, but that this was nothing.

In the weeks following Ann and Elizabeth’s ill-fated outing to the old Parish Church, Ann manages to find a way to not only stay at home, but to mostly stay in her room. Her Mother and Elizabeth fuss over her, having Dr Paley examine her. He decides that she is suffering from nervousness, and a laudanum rub is dispensed. Ann doesn’t feel nervous. She feels – well, what? ‘Mortified’ is one word that could potentially describe it. How on earth had she imagined for one moment that Miss Lister was looking at her? Why had she felt so elated when she thought that she was? And why had she been so utterly devastated when she realised that that smile, and that look, were for someone else? She doesn’t feel such euphoria whenever Catherine Rawson smiles at her, does she? And Catherine is her very best friend. Surely, it would be impossible for two people to be closer, and yet Catherine doesn’t have the power to pre-occupy Ann the way Miss Lister does. 

However, as with all things, time is indeed a great healer. December arrives quickly. The Walker’s celebrate, inviting their enormous extended tribe of relations to Crow Nest in the run up to Christmas, and then they complete the tour around the homes of various cousins, aunts and uncles in return. The new year finds Ann becoming ever more committed to her drawing, sitting at the window, sketching the birds that fly through the gardens, seeking seeds to eat. Her Father mentions hiring a tutor to help her with her perspective. Ann wonders if Miss Lister teaches art. She teaches Greek and Latin, as Catherine’s Mother has approached her for lessons for Catherine. Perhaps Father could pay Miss Lister to take her in another tongue?

As spring creeps up on her, so does her sister. Elizabeth has taken a shine to a young Ensign, and finds herself trying to think of how many ways she might find to ‘run into him’. Ann is bemused by this. She can’t imagine spending so much of her time thinking about where a boy might be, or how she could ensure that she would be there too. Elizabeth is keen to get Ann out of the house with her. She helps Ann into her habit, whilst the groom deals with the saddles for their ponies. Ann is looking forward to feeling the crisp air on her face. She loves to ride, but hasn’t been deemed well enough for some time. 

Following Elizabeth along the Leeds Road, Ann is aware of their proximity to Shibden Hall. She peers through the trees as they pass by, to see if she can see Miss Lister stalking her grounds. A black flash startles her, until she realises it’s just a starling. Ann muses on the chances of Miss Lister being home. What would she say if Ann rode her pony to Shibden, and knocked on her door? Would she be as charming a host as she is a guest? Elizabeth has stopped ahead. Waiting. Ann is dawdling, and Elizabeth wants to know what is wrong. Why so slow? What is she looking at in the woodland? She clips her heels, and her pony carries her forwards that bit faster. Elizabeth wants them to ride side by side, to chat. What was she looking at in the woods? “A starling”, replies Ann. Elizabeth smiles. Ann loves the birds and animals of the land. Elizabeth wonders when Ann will become as interested in men. 

When they finally reach the edge of the town, Ann starts to fret. Halifax is busy, carriages and gigs everywhere, zig zagging the dirt roads. She needs her wits about her, but she constantly fears that her wits will fail her. Elizabeth wants to travel up to Hope Hall, as the Ensign is a neighbour of their cousin Christopher. Elizabeth is chatting away about how the winter sun had made his tawny hair glisten like gold. Whose? Christopher’s? ‘No!’ Elizabeth exclaimed. ‘Really, Ann. The Ensign! Do keep up!’ 

Up Horton Street, busy with people, horses, dogs. The hill is steep for walking up, but the ponies make light work of it. Elizabeth turns to point out a bonnet in the milliner’s window. Ann agrees that it’s nice. She didn’t see it. All she can see is how busy the street is, and how steep the hill is, and how she wishes she was at home, wrapped up in bed. Elizabeth slows for her. ‘Come on, Ann’, she smiles kindly. ‘Not far to go now. You’re doing really well!’ 

Once at Hope Hall, they dismount. Ann bounces from her saddle, hopping down with ease. She has been riding since she was almost big enough for a Shetland, and feels happier on horseback than anywhere else. Rawson’s groom comes out to greet them, and they follow the house keeper into the hallway.  
‘Misses Walker of Crow Nest, to see Mrs Rawson’ Elizabeth announces to the man servant at the door. He guides the two sisters through to the library, where Mary Rawson is seated by the window drinking tea with Mrs Eliza Priestley. Elizabeth is a little flustered at the sight of Mrs Priestley. She had hoped to have a private chat with Mary Rawson about her neighbour and his family. You can’t talk about such things in front of Mrs Priestley. She is a terrible gossip, skipping lightly from drawing room to drawing room, across Halifax, spreading whatever she heard in the last. She is already in full flow about something she heard just yesterday, from elderly Mrs Rawson at Stoney Royd. Elizabeth is smiling gently at Mary in a private joke, both of them willing Mrs Priestley to stop wittering. Ann is gazing through the window, wondering if she should tell Elizabeth that from here, she can see right across to the Ensign’s house, over the wall at the side of the orchard. She may wish to perch here for the next week, Ann smiled to herself. Silly Elizabeth, wasting her days fawning over a soldier. How will it end, she wonders? Eventually, with Elizabeth married. And what will become of Ann then?

Mrs Priestley suddenly mentions Miss Lister. Ann’s ears prick up at her name, but too late. She misses what had been said. She looks across to Elizabeth, who grins back at her. What have they been talking about? She hopes that she can find a way to ask Elizabeth, because everyone else seems to have found whatever has been said quite amusing.  
Mrs Priestley isn’t making any motions towards leaving, and Elizabeth is getting itchy feet. She turns to Mrs Rawson, and thanks her for the tea. She nods towards Ann, and the sisters stand, and shake hands with Mary Rawson, and then with Mrs Priestley, and they leave. 

Ann enjoys the ride home far more than she had enjoyed the journey to Hope Hall. The streets are calmer, and she feels more used to her saddle again. She moves to ride alongside her sister, rather than traipsing behind. 

‘Did you see the view from the window?’ Ann enquires.

‘No, but it must have been fascinating, as you had nothing to say about what Mrs Priestley was going on about. I thought you might have leapt to her defence’ Elizabeth says, pulling on the reins to hold her pony back a little.

‘To whose defence? Mrs Priestley?’

'No, silly! Miss Lister!’ says Elizabeth laughing. ‘We all know how much you like her’

‘Do you? How do I? I have only ever met her once.’ Says Ann, perhaps protesting a little too much.

‘Enough to follow her to a dreary Sunday service, in a church filled with old money and little else!’ Jibes Elizabeth.

‘Oh! How long ago was that? I barely remember it!’ Ann replies. ‘But what was said? Was it something terrible?’

‘Ah, only the usual. I can’t imagine any of that is true anyways.’ Says Elizabeth, with a shake of her head. 

Ann doesn’t know what ‘the usual’ is. She is afraid to ask, as she isn’t sure she wants to hear what sort of nonsense someone as silly as Mrs Priestley might say about their captivating neighbour. 

They ride up the Old Bank, slowly. Ann realises that they will ride through the Shibden Valley this way. Her mouth is suddenly very dry, her chest tight. She is glad that Elizabeth has stopped expecting a reply to her chatter. She is in full flow now about the Ensign, but also about some other chap she was introduced to at the Assembly Rooms. His chest may have been slightly too barrelled, but he danced an excellent quadrille. And his shoes were polished, a good sign she should think. 

Suddenly, Elizabeth whispers, wanting Ann to slow down. Elizabeth shushs with one finger to her mouth, and then switches the direction of the same finger, to point towards the wooded area at the side of the road. Ann can hear gun fire, and laughter. She and Elizabeth peer through the leaves, and Ann suddenly spots a tall, broad woman in a tweed riding habit, holding a pistol in the air and guffawing loudly. In her other hand she holds a wine bottle. Sitting near her, is an equally tall, but slightly less broad figure in black. Miss Lister. Miss Lister, and a very raucous friend. The sisters stay silent, watching the older women in the woods, target shooting wine bottles from a low stone wall. Glass smashing with almost every shot. Suddenly, Miss Lister calls her friend over, and the two of them begin throwing pennies high into the air, for the other to shoot. This creates more of a challenge, but Ann sees that Miss Lister hits almost every one that is thrown for her. Ann is impressed. She cannot take her eyes off Miss Lister’s shoulders as she prepares to take her shot, the strength in her arms as though the reverb is nothing to her. Both hands on the pistol, her finger on the trigger. The other woman shouts something, and walks towards Miss Lister, as she lowers her gun. She places her hand on Miss Lister’s shoulder, turns to her, and kisses her cheek. 

Instantly, Ann is flushed. Her heart is in her mouth. Who was this woman, and why was she touching Miss Lister like that? Ann is suddenly aware that her cheeks are on fire, and that Elizabeth is looking at her, with a quizzical expression on her face.  
Ann looks through the woods one last time, as she prepares to follow her sister, and get back on their way. Miss Lister and her friend are now walking back through the woods, back towards Shibden Hall. They are holding hands. 

The sisters ride back in silence. Ann isn’t sure what she has seen, and Elizabeth doesn’t seem inclined to explain it to her. Once they are back on Crow’s Nest land, Elizabeth spins in her saddle to look Ann right in the eye. 

‘I saw how you were looking at her’

'What?’

‘I saw how you were looking at her. Are you OK? Do you want to talk to me about - it?’ Elizabeth says, in such a calm and kind way that Ann almost starts to cry.

‘No, no, I’m fine.’ Ann isn’t sure what Elizabeth means, but she knows that the flushing, the dry mouth, the tightness in her chest, the breathlessness, are all symptoms of something. She just hopes that Elizabeth doesn’t tell her Mother. She will have Ann back in her bed, and Dr Paley ‘round with his laudanum faster than she could blink.


	3. Red Stockings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another year has passed, and Miss Ann Walker hasn't spoken with Miss Anne Lister once. It is now the spring of 1819, and her cousin and best friend Catherine Rawson has exciting news. And a exotic new outfit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wednesday 31 March 1819 [Halifax] Went to Mrs Stansfield Rawson’s, Savile Green. She herself opened the door for me, held out her hand & said she was delighted that anything had induced me to go there. This gave me my queue [sic]. We all talked away as if we had been in the habit of visiting for years. The forms of etiquette need not involuntarily trouble anyone here… Miss Rawson (Catherine) put on the costume of the island of Mycone [Mycene?], white, reaching only to the knees, as if to shew the red worsted stockings & slippers down at the heels of the ladies of the island. A curious sort of dress but in which Miss Rawson looked uncommonly well. She is pretty, a handsome, elegant looking girl.

Ann Walker has devoted herself this year to her art. Father arranged tuition from Mr Shirland, and he visits Crow Nest weekly, mostly working inside from one of the larger sitting rooms, occupied with a still life. Occasionally, weather permitting, they have stepped out into the garden, to set up the easel, and to encourage Ann to immerse herself in her muse. Ann is still trying to find her muse. Mr Shirland seems convinced that Miss Walker’s heart lies amongst the flora and fauna of her Father’s estate. Yet Ann has been feeling more and more detached from the world around her. More introspective. She keenly feels the difference between how others seem to be able to engage with life to the fullest, whilst she always fears letting go. Observing life from a distance. Always holding herself back, never diving in. 

Elizabeth is diving in, however. She has been introduced to Captain George Sutherland, a Highlander. He has an inscrutable expression, which makes Ann quite afraid. Elizabeth is captivated. Ann is alarmed. This is it. This man will carry her sister away – and to where? Elizabeth laughs, and says that they are not yet engaged, and if and when they are, it shall be a long one. Ann just cannot believe her, and the threat of losing Elizabeth is making her miserable. 

Ann heads over to Savile Green early, to sit and drink tea with Catherine. Catherine has, so her note says, some good and exciting news. News which Ann is keen to hear all about. She rides there, always an enjoyable jaunt. Today proves no exception, as the temperatures are finally starting to rise, as if to greet the summer to come. 

‘Catherine, why did you wear that?’ Ann is amazed. Incredulous. Ann is sitting on a small sofa in the Rawson’s drawing room. Catherine is prancing about in front of her, giggling away to herself. 

‘Because’ Catherine says, conspiratorially, whilst twirling in her exotic outfit, ‘Mother said that Miss Lister was far more likely to agree, if I were to show her just how far my interest in Greek stretched. If she were to see that my fascination isn’t just with the language, but also with the customs, the culture of Greece and its isles. And, I have to say, Mother was right! Miss Lister will come to me in our library each Thursday afternoon, for two hours. Starting from next week!’ Catherine is thrilled with herself. Catherine is thrilled with her costume. Blood red worsted stockings, with blood red heels. White shift with red trim, knee length skirt, open fronted shirt where the natives bare their breasts. Luckily, Catherine still has on her chemise underneath, or else the display would be shockingly indecent. 

Ann is stunned. Miss Lister, with Catherine, in that skirt, and those red stockings, in the library. Every Thursday, for two hours, from now on. 

‘And your art tutor? Mr Shirland? How is that going?’ Gushes Catherine, with genuine enthusiasm.

‘I still have much work to do on my perspective.’ Says Ann, thoughtfully. 

Ann knows that she is being unfair, and that she ought to be pleased that Catherine can finally begin studying something which she has talked about for a long time. Yet, all she feels is jealousy. And a sneaking suspicion that Catherine, her dear sweet, innocent Catherine, is somehow gulling her over her intentions. If Miss Lister were a gentleman, parading around in front of her in such an outfit would be considered exceptionally inappropriate. But she isn’t. And it isn’t. And Ann realises that she has much work to do on her perspective in more ways than one.

Ann has occasionally, over the last few months, seen Miss Lister at work on her estate. Gardening with her men, as Miss Walker has rode through the valley. Always at enough of a distance that an impromptu conversation could never take place. Ann no longer wants to speak to her. She simply wants to look. Miss Lister seems to enjoy working outdoors, in a way that Ann hadn’t realised ladies could. She didn’t think it possible that a lady could carry ornamental pots, and had previously believed that this job would always need to be done by directing a man in where to place it. But Miss Lister seems happy to pull a series of urns from the back of a cart, carrying them to wherever she chooses, all by herself. She doesn’t wear her black silk gowns for this. She wears men’s shirts and braces, with a simple black bombazine skirt, which she is in the habit of rolling up to the top of her stockings. Her hair isn’t piled in ringlets for this. It’s brushed back and tied at the nape of her neck. Several strands always seem to have pulled away, and they stick to her face and neck as she works.

Miss Lister’s dress when she is at home, in the grounds of her own estate, with no one to please but herself, is almost as indecent at Catherine’s Greek ensemble.

Ann is riding through again today, ruminating on her earlier conversation with Catherine. It isn’t strictly on her way, more a pretty detour. In the distance she sees a group of men digging the ground, arranging small shrubs into a type of hedgerow. Each one of them working with the rest, in a team, like ants. As she draws closer, she isn’t surprised to see that one of these men is actually Miss Lister. She is bent almost double over her spade, pulling and dragging, slicing through the earth. Her shirt sleeves are rolled up, dirt covers her arms and face. Ann cannot take her eyes away from her. She feels the vice like grip of something shifting within her. Miss Lister is truly beautiful, Ann thinks. Her dark hair, her milky skin, her flushed cheeks. She knows now that she has found her muse, and without her sketch book, she knows that she must burn the image of Miss Lister into her mind’s eye, for later. 

Her shirt is smeared with earth from the groundwork, and wet with sweat from her exertions. It sticks to her body as she shifts, the front of it splayed open so that you can almost see her stays. Ann is amazed that Miss Lister is comfortable being seen like this, in this state, in front of the men in her employ. Yet she seems to be entirely at ease. As do her men. She wears elbow length leather gloves, the natural stretch of the tanned material clinging to her toned arms. Ann’s gaze follows up to her upper arms, her shoulders, her back. Through the dirty, wet white shirt, Ann can see that Miss Lister’s body is not like hers. Miss Lister’s back is muscular, her shoulders wide, the sight of which stupefies Ann.  
She cannot see, or think of, anything else all the way home. 

Once back, Ann rushes through the house, up the stairs, to her room. She goes straight to her art cupboard, and pulls out her large sketch pad. She finds the charcoal, and without as much as taking off her riding habit’s jacket, she gets to work sketching out Miss Lister from memory. The figure is quickly created, so quickly that the charcoal smudges where the heel of her hand brushes. Ann looks her work over, and feels she has achieved some success. The image she has created is of her muse in profile. Her hair, loose in its ribbon. Her brow and jaw are almost perfect. Aquiline nose. The way her collar hangs about her neck. Ann sits back, smiles, and thinks that this drawing is just for her. This isn’t for Mr Shirland. In fact, he shouldn’t see this at all. There are times, Ann feels, where art is just for the artist themselves to enjoy.

The Walker’s enjoy their evening at home. Father and Mother chatter away after dinner, Elizabeth pours the coffees, and Ann fills her family in on her visit to Catherine. She stops short of telling them about Catherine’s costume. Or about Ann’s detour across the Shibden Valley. Her Mother is fascinated that Miss Lister has agreed to tutor Catherine. How has Mrs Stansfield Rawson managed to devise this? Ann thinks about the red stockings, and says she doesn’t know.

Elizabeth follows Ann upstairs at close of the evening. She wants to talk to Ann, to question her about why she was in such a fluster when she arrived back from her tea with Catherine. Was Ann upset about Catherine’s lessons? 

‘No, of course not. Why would I be?’

‘Because perhaps you would like to spend two hours with Miss Lister’

‘Why would I?’

‘Ann, I wanted to talk to you about this some time ago, but when I saw that drawing in your room…’ Elizabeth doesn’t finish. She doesn’t know how to. What can she say? 

‘What drawing?’

‘The charcoal sketch of Miss Lister’

‘Oh’ This is the only response Ann can devise. Her private work, no longer as private as she had thought. 

‘I wasn’t snooping, Ann. I wasn’t’ Says Elizabeth, her hand on Ann’s arm, face inches from hers. ‘I just wanted to see if you were alright’

‘Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?’ Replies Ann, warily. ‘What did you think you would find?’

‘What I found. I thought I would find what I found’

This statement makes little sense to Ann, and yet sounds so ominous to her ear. She feels her anxiety begin to swell. 

‘I need to go to bed now’ 

‘Well, if you do want to talk to me, you know where I am’ says Elizabeth sweetly. ‘I won’t go anywhere whilst you still need me, you know’ She gives Ann’s arm a little push in a playful way.

‘Yes, you will’ Ann states plainly.

Ann finds that sleep doesn’t come as easily as she had first thought. Laid in her bed, all she can see when she closes her eyes is Miss Lister, working on her land.


	4. The Trick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thursday 2nd September 1819[Halifax] 
> 
> In the afternoon dined at 4½ & at 5.35, my aunt, & Isabel & Marian & I set off in a chaise to drink tea at Cliff-hill. My uncle & father walked. Nobody there but ourselves, except Mrs W. Priestley, who very civilly asked Isabella & me to spend a week with her, which we left undecided. She wished she could get me to like the Miss Hudsons of Hipperholme but they were frightened of me – my Latin & Greek, etc. What nonsense!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took far longer to write than expected. This chapter sows the seeds for the ones to come. Let me know what you think!

Aunt Ann is filled with the exuberance of one who has finally achieved her aim. Unusually animated, she puffs up as she relays her story of extending an invitation to the Lister’s for tea, and how the whole of the Lister family, plus the Lister families guest, had accepted. The guest had been a young woman whose family were the Malton Norcliffe’s, and who was equally as engaging as the younger Miss Lister herself. This had all taken place just last Thursday. They had stayed for almost 2 hours, Miss Lister, Misses Anne and Marian, Mr Lister and Captain Lister, and a terrifically entertaining time was had by all. 

Ann and Elizabeth are seated on the small sofa in Aunt Ann’s drawing room. Their Mother seated across from Aunt Ann, listening politely, yet completely stunned, nodding where appropriate. Elizabeth keeps glancing at Ann. Ann keeps her head down, wondering when Aunt Ann will come up for air, and change the subject. She had been trying to steer her thoughts away from Miss Lister, and now she was all her Aunt wanted to discuss. 

Ann’s thoughts wandered to the plan she had made at the start of the year. Ann had decided to ride through the Shibden Valley on occasion, but this had turned into Ann riding through the valley almost every day. She had always kept her distance. Observing Miss Lister at work on her estate, observing Miss Lister taking walks through her estate, and observing who Miss Lister walked with. Miss Browne was almost always at her side, on her arm, tête-à-tête. One late, drizzly afternoon in April, Ann had seen Miss Lister and Miss Browne walk along, arm in arm, whilst Miss Lister spun her umbrella by its strap, in the manner of a gentleman. She saw Miss Browne lean in ever closer to her companion, gripping Miss Lister’s arm tighter still. Ann always went home feeling quite low when she saw the pair out walking, but that day as she rode home, her eyes flooded with hot tears.

All this had changed at the start of May. Suddenly, Miss Lister had vanished altogether. Ann had thought to ride closer to the workmen, and enquire as to Miss Lister’s health. The sort of comment that wouldn’t arouse curiosity. Simply a neighbourly thing to do. But she couldn’t summon up the courage required to approach any of the Lister’s staff. So, eventually, she stayed on the road when passing by, and tried to her organise her thoughts, steering them in other directions. 

Eventually, she had asked Catherine how her Greek was going, to see if Catherine knew what had happened to Miss Lister. Catherine deflated a little at the question. She hadn’t mentioned anything about her tuition after the first session. Which had gone exceptionally well, she had enthused at the time, with Miss Lister full of praise for her initial grasp of a new alphabet. This was because, Catherine admitted, that there had only been the one meeting. The week after, Miss Lister had arrived to let her Mother know that she could no longer commit to it, as she was accompanying her Aunt to Paris. She did not know when they would return. Miss Lister had been very sorry to let them down, Catherine said. It was all on account of the elder Miss Lister’s health, which required the attention of a doctor trained on the continent. Ann was ashamed that she felt pleased that Catherine’s tuition had ended, but sad that Miss Lister was now so far away, perhaps never to return. Today was the first she had heard anyone mention Miss Lister for months, and Ann cannot believe that Aunt Ann planned this party, with such exclusive guests, and never once thought to invite them. 

Neither, it turns out, can Ann’s Mother. The three ladies thank Aunt Ann for the tea and conversation, and stand to leave. Once safely away in their carriage, Mrs Walker turns to her girls and exhales loudly. 

‘Well, that was certainly illuminating. I do wonder why Aunt Ann thought it acceptable to invite the Priestley’s to her little party, leave all of us out, and then have the gall to tell us all about it in such exacting detail!’ 

Elizabeth agreed with her Mother, adding how rude it was that Aunt Ann never once considered them. Mrs Walker decides that the three should stop by at Lightcliffe to see Mrs Priestley, to hear her take on why their own relative had cut them. 

Elizabeth and Ann are once again, seated together some distance from their mother and host. Eliza Priestley was thrilled to see them, ushered them straight into her sunlit sitting room, the late afternoon light flooding the room with gold. Her maid bought in a tray with tea and fruits, Mrs Priestley keen to show her newly developed habit of drinking tea with slices of lemon in it. This was something that Miss Lister and her friend Miss Norcliffe had done at Cliff Hill, and now Mrs Priestley has discovered that nothing else will do. She rambled on about how charming and funny Miss Norcliffe was, and did Mrs Walker know her? No, replied Ann’s Mother. She hadn’t had the chance to meet her, as Aunt Ann hadn’t mentioned the party until it had already taken place. Mrs Priestley finally catches Mrs Walker’s tone, and looks bashful. She feels that Aunt Ann only invited her and William because of William’s involvement with the new music society in Halifax. Aunt Ann had been keen for the Lister’s to know what Mr Priestley’s plans were, in the hope that they would offer their patronage. Mrs Walker agrees that there is sense in that.

Ann and Elizabeth sit even closer, half listening to the conversation, half gazing through the windows and down into the gardens. Suddenly, Mrs Priestley remembers her young guests, and enquires if they are enjoying the tea. Ann cannot drink it. It’s too stringent, with the sour lemon and the tartness of the leaves. Elizabeth smiles sweetly, as if to agree with it being delicious without actually saying anything at all. Mrs Priestley informs them that this is all the rage in the capital now, as Miss Lister had informed her. It was being drunk like this in all the fashionable dining rooms Miss Lister and her Aunt Anne had visited whilst staying over in London, on their way to Paris. Ann decides to give the tea another try. Much more pleasant second time around, she finds. Elizabeth sees this, and suppresses a giggle. Mrs Priestley goes on to tell the girls about how fascinating Miss Lister and her friend are, and what a treat it had been for her to be in the company of two such intelligent and well-read girls. Carried away with herself, she then goes on to discuss the Lister’s summer party at the end of August, which she had also attended. How they had provided such an array of game, prepared cold in such a variety of ways that Mrs Priestley said it was clear that the housekeeper at Shibden Hall was as well travelled as her employers. That the game had been shot by Miss Norcliffe herself, at her Langton estate in Malton. How they had provided as much madeira or brandy as anyone could drink. How curious it was that people in Halifax should say that the Lister’s were not sociable. It was merely that they exercised caution with regards to whom they socialised with. Mrs Walker’s hard stare stops Mrs Priestley in her tracks. Another party that the Walker’s had not known about. Had not been invited to. Mrs Priestley makes a small attempt to back track, but it’s too late. And she is just too happy to have Miss Anne Lister invite her, she cannot rein it in.

Ann sees how proud Mrs Priestley is to count Miss Lister as a friend, and smiles in return. She can see that Mrs Priestley feels exactly the way she does about their charismatic neighbour, and that she clearly feels no shame about admiring another woman quite so much. Ann wonders why the feeling remains that this is something she herself cannot express.

Back in their carriage heading home, Mrs Walker is still angry with Aunt Ann. Eliza’s excuses for her poor behaviour hadn’t placated her one bit. But, what can be done? And the Lister’s? What must people have thought who had attended, and who would have seen that the Walker’s, their nearest neighbours, were not present? Did the Lister’s think them too vulgar to make friends with? If so, how dare they! Elizabeth tries to steer the conversation elsewhere. She has a few friends who will be coming over this evening. They’ll be in the music room. Mother hasn’t forgotten has she? No, Mother tells her. She has not. She will allow them a glass of wine or madeira each. Elizabeth is thrilled, and beams excitedly. Mrs Walker smiles at her daughters, the first genuine smile she has managed since Cliff Hill. Mrs Walker asks Elizabeth if Ann will be invited to her little party. Elizabeth looks at Ann, as Ann continues to stare out of the window, still thinking about how easily Mrs Priestley wore her esteem for Miss Lister. 

Elizabeth is fussing from the moment they arrive back. She fusses around the music room, arranging chairs, rearranging chairs, becoming frustrated when the sheet music she wants cannot be found, then finding it almost immediately in the piano stool. She calls Ann into her bedroom, asks her opinion on two dresses, then throws a third into the equation. Ann cannot see much difference between any of them, all white or pastel shades. Her eyes alight on the blue one, to set Elizabeth’s hair off. Elizabeth looks at her – If she is to wear the blue, then Ann must wear the white. Ann is happy to agree. This will be her first evening spent with Elizabeth and her friends. At 5 years older, Elizabeth’s friends seem a world apart from Ann. But this evening, she will get to partake in the gaieties, and perhaps a glass of madeira too. The maid arrives, and helps the girls dress, fixing Elizabeth’s white evening gown to fit Ann well enough. Ann peers at herself in the looking glass. She looks every inch the lady, to her complete surprise. In Elizabeth’s gown, she feels confident and somewhat older than sixteen.

After more than an hour of music and song, the young women begin to settle down to their wine and conversation. Ann doesn’t really know what to say, but that’s ok as the conversation is rolling onwards without her, and all she need do is listen. 

Over another glass of wine, it is revealed that the reason Elizabeth hasn’t mentioned much about George Sutherland of late, is that she has discovered that he has a temper. The last time she saw him was months ago, when he had made an attempt at her skirts whilst walking through the gardens at Crow Nest one evening. However, when he returned from his tour with the army, she hoped they would meet again. Since he had been away, she had thought of that evening and his temper many times, and feels that her behaviour had been at fault and it was little wonder he was so angry. To turn him down in such a manner, after taking him for a walk alone like that? Well! What could she expect? Her friends agreed. Charlotte Edwards said, in a quiet, confidential manner, that she wished she had a suitor interested in her skirts. The girls all erupted with shocked giggles. Ann sat in silence, slightly perplexed. She would have been terrified if a man had tried to touch her like that when on such an innocent walk in her own gardens. Why would anyone invite this? Why would anyone be jealous that it hadn’t happened to them? 

As the evening progresses, Ann’s silent presence starts to ignite the curiosity of her sister’s guests. Had Ann been introduced at the Assembly Rooms as yet?  
'No', Elizabeth automatically answers for her, 'Not as yet. Perhaps next season'. She turns to Ann with a smile. 

‘So, Ann? Any suitors?’ Jane Wilcock asks, grinning. 

Ann looks at her feet, or to where her feet would be, could she see them under the length of her skirts. Elizabeth replies for her again.  
‘No, no one as yet. Still, she has plenty of time’ and she smiles gently. 

‘At your age Ann’, starts Jane ‘I was fixated with Samuel Jarrow, the son of the vicar in Brighouse.’

‘Oh, now I remember him!’ joins Elizabeth ‘I remember your long detours home every day!’

‘Of course!’ says Jane brightly ‘Every single day I rode past the vicarage, on the off chance I would catch sight of him. He was handsome. Such a kind face. Alas! He never noticed me.’

‘I still don’t know how you never managed to speak to him’ Charlotte asks. 

‘I just never had the courage to manage the situation. He was quite out of my reach, or ought to have been.’ 

‘That isn’t fair at all’ exclaims Elizabeth. ‘You are lovely, and he would have been flattered, and interested, I am sure!’

‘What happened to him?’ enquired Ann.

‘Cholera’ replied Jane, sadly. 

‘Oh’ replied Ann, embarrassed to have asked.

‘It’s the romance of it all, isn’t it?’ Elizabeth adds.

‘Oh yes!’ Jane says, with a far-away smile. ‘Romance encourages us into the most ridiculous things.’

'Not romance – it’s…’ Charlotte states, lowly ‘… Something lower still!’

The girls shrieked with laughter at their friend’s bawdy remark. 

Ann begins to think of her own detours. They were not fuelled by romance. They were fuelled by perfect esteem. Sometimes, Elizabeth’s friends were not as mature or as worldly as they would like to think.

‘You should have tried Ellen Rawson’s old trick’ says Charlotte, stifling a laugh.

‘Oh, to be so barefaced!’ announces Jane. 

‘What was her trick?’ Ann was intrigued to learn more about her older cousin. 

‘Well, she used to take her beau for a walk, and – Oh! I can’t tell you! It’s too outrageous, and not for ears as young and as innocent as yours, Ann dear!’ 

Again, the conversation moves on, leaving Ann desperate to know what her cousin had done that was so outrageous, it was deemed too strong for her ears. 

Ann helps Elizabeth put the music things away once her cheerful and tipsy friends had left for home. 

‘Elizabeth, what was it that Ellen used to do?’

‘Oh, Ann. She didn’t really ‘used to do’ anything. It was something that only happened once, and for all we know, it might not have happened as people have said’ replies Elizabeth somewhat cryptically. 

‘But, what was it?’ asks Ann again.

'Well, she went for a walk through the grounds at Stoney Royde with Mr Empson. And half way around, she fainted. Or rather, she pretended to faint.’ Ann is looking at Elizabeth in confusion.

‘But why?’ asks Ann. 

‘So that she fell into his arms, and he had to revive her’ said Elizabeth.

‘Oh!’ Ann was shocked. She had no idea you could manage a situation where you could be almost kissed without the other person realising what you were doing. How brazen her cousin must have been as a younger woman. 

‘Yes, and where she got such a high-flown idea from, I will never know! But, if she intended it, it certainly worked! They were married within six months.’

Ann walked behind Elizabeth, as they blew out the candles, and made their way to the stairs. Sleep was calling them.


	5. Beyond All Reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wednesday 22 September 1819 [Halifax] At 11.20, set off to walk to Lightcliffe… found Mrs W. Priestley & her sister, Miss Ann Paley, at home… Miss Ann Paley seems a nice enough woman (girl) but lolls her arm over the chair back or sticks her elbow out with her hand akimbo in rather too masculine a manner, but this both her sisters, Mrs W. Priestley & Mrs Dr Paley, do. From Lightcliffe to Cliff-hill. Sat ½ hour with the 2 Miss Walkers. I half promised to go & drink tea some time soon in a free way as I do at Lightcliffe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ann continues to express herself through her art, and finds herself wishing to be closer to her muse.

Ann pulls the charcoal and the pastels from the front of her art cupboard, placing them on the floor at her knees, as her arm reaches further still to the back. Finally, the very tips of her fingers alight on her favourite sketch book. It had been a birthday gift from her cousin Catherine. It has a watermarked silk cover, a leather spine, and the pages within are of the finest textured paper. Ann had known what to do with it as soon as she had unwrapped it. The book was now half full, with each sheet adorned by the perfect image of Miss Anne Lister. 

Ann had realised that if she wanted to keep her drawings to herself, she needed to learn how to hide them better, after Elizabeth had found her first drawing of Miss Lister. Ann’s art cupboard is so filled with all kinds of papers, and inks and oils and, well, everything she could ever possibly need to draw or paint, that the back of it is tricky to get to. So this is where she decided to keep the most beautiful sketch book she has ever owned, filled with her drawings of the most beautiful woman she has ever seen. 

Most of the pictures are of Miss Lister working in her grounds. Her hair loose and falling in tangles from the ribbon she had roughly tied it back with. Her shirt dirty, the collar opened wide. Her neck and clavicles had taken Ann minutes to perfect, the memory of them so clear in her mind. In one drawing, Miss Lister’s hand is sweeping over her dirt streaked forehead, her long, elegant fingers entangled in her wild, dusty, dark hair. Hands surprisingly clean, having been recently covered by her leather gloves. One sketch is of Miss Lister with her skirts rolled up, showing her stockings and laced boots. In another, Miss Lister is bending over her spade, her shirt perhaps more open than it had been in reality, her stays are on show, her chest soft, the strength in her shoulders and arms almost palpable. This, Ann feels, is her finest work. Part of her wishes she could cut this image from the book and frame it, as her Mother did with the fruit bowl still life she completed a few weeks ago with Mr Shirland. Another part of her wants to send it to Miss Lister, anonymously. Ann wonders what Miss Lister would make of it, if she would admire it as much as Ann does herself. But no, this image, and its companions, must stay in their beautiful binding, pressed to the back of the cupboard. A private collection, for the pleasure of the artist alone. 

In the days since their visit to Aunt Ann, Ann had decided that she really shouldn’t begin riding through the Shibden Valley again. Two days after hearing that Miss Lister had returned home, Ann went out with Elizabeth into Halifax, and they rode past on the Leeds Road both there and back. Ann was very much aware that Shibden Hall was just across the way, just through the trees, but she willed herself not to look. However, a week later, she hadn’t been able to resist the urge to ride through the top of the estate alone with her travelling sketch pad and pencils. If Ann was to see her craft improve, she must at least attempt to capture her muse again. And she did. 

Miss Lister was walking through the trees and bracken, wearing her greatcoat. Without a hat, her hair hung in neat curls to her cheeks. She carried a long stick, using it to move undergrowth away as she walked, looking down almost all the way. Ann exhaled sharply, unaware that she had been holding her breath. It had been some months since Ann had last seen Miss Lister, some months since she had finally decided that Mr Shirland was probably right, and her new muse would be waxed fruits. But seeing Miss Lister again forced all of the air from her lungs. The woman was simply mesmerising. Ann pulled her pad from her saddle bag, and started to sketch. She focused on how determined Miss Lister looked as she propelled herself forwards, through the rough terrain. How her arms swung at her sides as she forged ahead, each like the pendulum of a metronome, timing her pace. Ann was amazed at how quickly the image came together. Even after all these months, Ann knew every contour of Miss Lister’s face. Every tendon in her neck, every muscle.  
Ann had to work quickly in order not to be found out, as she realised that the speed Miss Lister was travelling meant that she would soon be seen by her. She packed her pad and pencil away, just as Miss Lister looked up at the path ahead of her. If she saw Ann, Ann didn’t know. She rode away quickly, having nothing of any worth to say to her imposing neighbour. 

Now, it was time to get those sketches out, and formulate an image for her book. Ann was thrilled by the idea of capturing the speed that her muse moves, how powerful and yet graceful her movements are. Ann finds some loose sheets, and starts to piece the image together, until she feels happy enough to begin the transfer of the picture to her favourite book. She is so lost in her thoughts that she doesn’t hear the light tap on her bedroom door, or hear it swing open as Elizabeth enters the room. 

Suddenly Elizabeth is next to her, dressed in her green riding habit, chattering away about how Mother wants them to go to collect a novel from Aunt Ann. ‘The Bride of Lammermoor’ had only recently been stocked by Whitely’s, and Aunt Ann had managed to buy the last one. Mother wants to make sure she has read it, so that she can follow the conversations her friends will undoubtedly be having about it in the coming weeks. Elizabeth doesn’t seem to notice the rough sketches all around her, or if she does, she says nothing at all about the dozens of quick pencil drawings, each of Miss Lister, marching through the autumnal air. 

Ann gathers them up quickly, placing her silk bound book over them, willing Elizabeth to leave so that she can start putting her private works away. Ann agrees to the trip out, and Elizabeth starts to talk about Catherine, asking when Ann will see her next and if the two of them might like to join Elizabeth and her friends for a musical evening. 

‘I thought that you seemed to enjoy the last evening we had, and you will likely enjoy it even more with Catherine there with you. What do you say?’ Asks Elizabeth. 

‘I shall ask her when I next visit’ replies Ann ‘But, I am sure she will be more than happy to come over to us. When are you thinking?’

‘The last Saturday of September, so make sure you ask her soon’ say Elizabeth smiling. 

Elizabeth leaves as the maid enters, ready to help Ann out of her day dress and into her riding habit. 

The sisters arrive at Cliff Hill within 15 minutes, having rode their ponies as fast as they dared through Lightcliffe. They were laughing as they dismounted, Aunt Ann’s groom coming out to take their ponies into the stables. Aunt Ann frequently had visitors when they went to see her, but today there were no other horses or carriages, so they continued their chatter as they walked through the halls of their favourite Aunts home. The two were giggling away confidentially as they entered Aunt Ann’s drawing room, immediately silenced when they found Miss Anne Lister sitting there already, taking tea with Aunt Ann. 

‘Oh, we are so sorry Aunt Ann!’ Exclaimed Elizabeth. ‘We had no idea you had company’

‘Ah! Please, no apologies on my account! Booms Miss Lister, as she stands in recognition of the arrival of the young ladies. Ann had forgotten how deep Miss Lister’s voice was. Seeing her, standing here, so jovial, Ann is suddenly flushed. It’s been two years since Ann first met Miss Lister, and the years haven’t lessened her regard. Up close, and in her black silks, Miss Lister is as enchanting as ever. An impetuous rush of bravery moves Ann’s feet forwards into the room, and her hand up towards Miss Lister, which Miss Lister immediately shakes. 

‘Miss Walker!’ she says quickly. 

And just as quickly, she lets go of Ann’s hand in order to shake Elizabeth’s. Ann wishes for the first time that Elizabeth was not there, just to have had another second of her hand in Miss Lister’s. 

‘Miss Lister, my young nieces are here to collect a book for their Mother’ Aunt Ann Walker explains.

‘How admirable’ replies Miss Lister, smiling at Aunt Ann. ‘What is the subject of the work?’

‘A novel’ Ann replies, cutting Elizabeth off, as she was about to state the same. 

‘Ah, fiction’ replies Miss Lister, as she looks at Ann, perhaps for the first time. ‘Something I know little of, I am afraid’. 

‘Actually, not fiction’ Ann continues ‘It’s ‘The Bride of Lammermoor’, and Mr Scott has said that the tale is based on real events. Often, truth is more dramatic than fiction, don’t you think?’ Ann’s eyes do not leave the object of her esteem. She moves to the side of Miss Lister.

‘Please, don’t stand on ceremony for us, Miss Lister’ Ann says, as she takes a seat on the sofa next to Miss Lister. 

She knows that her Aunt and Elizabeth will be stunned at her boldness, but she finds that she does not care. Miss Lister sits down, further away, closer towards the end of the sofa than she had been sitting originally. Elizabeth finds a chair nearest her Aunt, and perches there. 

Ann is aware that the eyes of both her Aunt and of her sister are boring into her, in perfect amazement at Ann’s behaviour. Ann knows that she ought to have taken a seat alongside her sister, but she can be close to Elizabeth whenever she chooses. Having the opportunity to sit so closely to Miss Lister doesn’t happen every day, so she must seize the chance. The room is silent, aside from the ticking clock. Miss Lister shuffles next to her, and produces her watch, checking the time. Ann watches as she snaps it shut, keeping the timepiece and chain in her hand rather than immediately returning it to its pocket. Ann’s heart is racing, the silence is eroding her bravery. What has she done? She looks across at Elizabeth, who returns her look open mouthed. The door opens, and Aunt Ann’s footman George bustles in with a fresh tray of tea, with cups for Elizabeth and Ann. 

‘Oh, thank you George!’ cries Aunt Ann, her loudness revealing her unease. What must Miss Lister think? Will her young nieces' faux pas mean an end to the friendship between Miss Lister and herself?

Elizabeth sets to preparing the tea, and offering cakes and biscuits to her Aunt, who accepts, and to Miss Lister, who declines. Ann remains focused on Miss Lister’s eyes. She hasn’t had the opportunity to see them as closely before, and she feels compelled to record every fleck in her irises, every crease in her eyelids, each and every one of her long, dark eyelashes. Miss Lister doesn’t wear any cosmetics. She doesn’t need them. She is perfect. Miss Lister turns to look at Ann, and Ann is suddenly conscious that she has been staring, open mouthed. 

‘Miss Walker, do forgive me, but have I seen you riding across my estate this last week?’

Elizabeth and Aunt Ann both turn to Ann, to await her reply. 

‘Yes, I often do on the way into Halifax. The path at the top is sheltered, and so pretty at this time of year’.

‘Thank you, Miss Walker. I myself believe that Shibden Valley is the most beautiful place in the world in the autumn’.

‘Is that why you returned from Paris, then? You missed Shibden? Only my cousin, Miss Catherine Rawson, seemed to think you had left for the foreseeable future’. 

‘Ah, no’. Miss Lister seems taken aback. ‘My aunt and I visited just for 6 weeks, for her to receive a course of treatment from a specialist’. 

‘Oh, I do hope her health is improved’ Says Elizabeth, from across the room.

‘Yes, very much so. Thank you’ replies Miss Lister. 

She is looking at the watch in her hand, and begins to spin it on its chain, swinging it around, spinning it, and catching it in one hand. As she does so, her eyes scan the room, finally fixing on Ann. Miss Lister smiles at her, and Ann feels her insides turn to lava. She has an overwhelming urge to try to follow in Ellen Empson’s footsteps, and pretend to faint. She looks down. She cannot return Miss Lister’s smile. Ann feels as though she is on fire. All she can think about is having Miss Lister’s hands around her waist, helping her recover her senses, how their faces would be close enough to feel the others breath. Quite out of the blue, Ann has a realisation. It strikes Ann that what she feels for Anne Lister is not simply friendship, but something far more tender still. 

Aunt Ann takes over the conversation, bringing Elizabeth up to speed with what she and Miss Lister had been talking about before the sister’s arrival. Aunt Ann has been very sad to hear that Princess Adelaide, the Duke of Clarence’s wife, had delivered a still born child in France just a few weeks ago. Without issue, the Hanover line will end. Miss Lister chimes in, about how the doctors in France would be sure to have done all that they could, that she would have been in the very best hands. 

The three continue their discussion, with Ann silently observing them. She follows Miss Lister’s hands as they punctuate the air. Ann finds Miss Lister’s enthusiasm for almost any subject utterly beguiling. She finds herself gazing at Miss Lister’s lips as she speaks. Her lips are full, like deep, red velvet cushions. Her chest feels intensely tight, and Ann becomes increasingly breathless. But somehow, Ann mostly feels exhilarated. Just being in the same room as Miss Lister excites her beyond all reason.

‘So, Miss Lister, perhaps you will come to visit us at Crow Nest, now you know us better’ Elizabeth enquires. ‘My sister and I would love for you to feel as free to take tea with us, as you do with our aunt’. Ann’s eyes shoot up, fixing on her sister. What impertinence? But what an idea!

‘Of course, now we are such good friends, I do not doubt that you will find me on your doorstep sooner rather than later!’ Miss Lister vociferates. Elizabeth notices that a similar invitation is not extended in return. 

Aunt Ann produces the novel they had been dispatched to collect, and Elizabeth takes it from her hands, thanking her on their Mother’s behalf. Ann realises that she has clearly missed some social cues, as Elizabeth is already on her feet, extending her hand across the room to Miss Lister in a gesture of farewell. Ann jumps to her feet, slightly unsteadily. She doesn’t have as far to reach to shake Miss Lister’s hand. As she does so, she looks straight into the woman’s eyes, and she is spellbound as her gaze is returned. 

‘Hmm. It really has been marvellous, erm, seeing you again, Miss Lister’ stumbles Ann, tongue tied. 

‘Likewise Miss Walker’ Miss Lister holds her hand very slightly longer than before ‘and next time, when you see me as you pass through my estate, I do hope you will stop to say hello’. 

Ann mumbles an acknowledgement and looks at her feet, as Miss Lister lets go of her hand. Her bravado has ended for the time being, but she has some incredible images captured to memory of Miss Lister’s eyes, her lips, her smile, and her elegant hands. Another sketch will be joining the others, very soon. One of Miss Lister sitting upright, wide legged in her black silk skirts, drinking tea whilst holding the saucer just so. Her eyes meeting the artists, her gaze staring out from the picture. 

The sisters are quickly away on their ponies, Ann heading out of the stables first, hoping to put a little distance between herself and Elizabeth. She cannot deal with whatever Elizabeth has to say about her behaviour at Cliff Hill. Elizabeth herself is equally keen to catch up with Ann, and does. 

‘Aunt Ann was gobsmacked when you sat next to Miss Lister’ Elizabeth says, laughing. 

‘I know. As was I’ Ann says, simply. 

‘I do hope that Miss Lister takes us up on our offer, don’t you?’ Elizabeth inquires.

‘Yes’ Ann turns to look at her sister directly. ‘And thank you for asking her. I wouldn’t have got my words out’. 

‘I know’ smiles Elizabeth. ‘But you have me, so that’s OK isn’t it?’

The Misses Walker continue their ride home in companionable silence.


	6. Green Ribbons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monday 1 May 1820 [Halifax]  
> All sitting quietly downstairs when (a few minutes before 10) we were roused by a loud rapping & screaming of female voices at the door. In came Mrs Walker of Crow Nest & her 2 daughters, the former almost fainting, & all ½ dead with fright, having just been overturned into the field in taking the sharp turn at the top of the lane. The reins had broken, the coachman lost all [control?] from the top of the hill. The horses came down full speed & were lying as if dead. None of the ladies, fortunately, much hurt. The footman did not happen to be on the box (not having been able to mount after walking up the new bank). The coachman had sprung a bone in his left ancle [sic] & bruised the hip a little. The horses did not appear at all the worse. After a glass of wine & being furnished with cloaks & a lantern, the ladies set off in ¼ hour to walk home. The carriage (very much broken) was brought here & the man sent off on one of the horses in about an hour after the rest. What a mercy they were no worse. How provident that the mischief was, in fact, so small considering the greatness of the accident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's May 1820. Ann Walker is almost 17 years old, and her affections for her mercurial neighbour do not seem to be lessening with time. Landing at Shibden with a thud, Ann and her mother and sister are offered a real Lister welcome. 15 minutes warm, and a shawl and a lantern to walk back home with. Hope you enjoy!

The carriage picked up speed noticeably as they drew deeper into the Shibden Valley. Ann’s Mother straightened herself against the back of her seat, bracing herself against the side. Elizabeth had been asleep, but now she was awake, holding the seat beneath her, pushing back into it sharply. Ann had been sat pinned to other side from her Mother for what seemed like an eternity. The horses were galloping down the road, it had seemed. Seeing the reaction of her mother and sister, it was really true. It was really happening.

When the horses entered the bend, the coachman failed to slow them. The carriage swung wildly, sending Ann to the floor, her sister landing almost on top of her. Her mother managed to keep in her seat, until the vehicle lurched forwards, the lamps at the front smashing, plunging them into darkness. The horses screaming as they slid down the hill, the smashed carriage no longer sufficiently attached to their harnesses, setting them free. The coachman was thrown from his seat and into the fields, the hedgerow breaking his fall. Inside the carriage, all Ann could hear was the screeching of the metal that had held the carriage together, as they flew down the hill, and the screams of her mother and sister. The glass window panes had smashed, sending thick shards and fine splinters to cover their gowns, hats and hair. Ann can feel a piece has pierced her arm. She touches it, yanking it out as the carriage, or rather what was left of it, finally shudders to a halt. 

The silence is suddenly deafening. Then Ann hears a wail of the sort she had only heard in her nightmares. She was surprised to find it was her that was making this blood curdling sound. She was relieved when she feels arms around her. She wasn’t sure if it was Mother or Elizabeth, but they begin to drag her away from the broken carriage, and pull her up. Standing, shakily, Ann clings to the figure who has helped her. It is now that she cries, great heaving sobs. She had been so convinced, as soon as the horses gathered speed that they would crash. And that she would die. She then felt someone cuddle her from behind, arms wrapped around her waist, their head resting lightly on her back, and she knew that this was her sister. She looks up, and sees the feint outline of her mother’s face in the moonlight. There was something thick and dark covering her left eyebrow. Ann reached up, to touch it. She was shocked to find that it was hot and wet. Her mother was bleeding, and this sends Ann back into fits of sobs and shrieks. Her mother and Elizabeth begin to move slowly back to the road, gently pulling an inconsolable Ann along with them. 

‘Mrs Walker! Mrs Walker!’ a man’s voice rang out through the night air. It was the coachman.  
‘Mrs Walker! Can you get help for me please? I think, no, I’m know I have broken something. I can’t walk’.

‘Of course’ gasps Ann’s mother, breathless and in shock. ‘We are going to Shibden Hall. We will have the Lister’s send their servants to come and help you’. 

Suddenly, Ann is silenced. Her mother intends for them to go to the Lister’s for help? Ann hopes that Miss Lister won’t be at home. She doesn’t want Miss Lister to see her like this, covered in her own tears, bleeding, her hair hanging around her shoulders, hat in tatters, her dress torn.

The three limp on, following the road to Shibden Hall in the depth of the night. Mrs Walker ahead of her daughters, in a mad rush to get to the Lister’s and ask for their help. Elizabeth, bruised and shaken, left to drag Ann behind her. Small words of encouragement as they make their way ever closer to the hall.  
Not one of the ladies own a watch, so they have no idea how long it takes them to get to the back door of the house. They have no idea what time it is now, all they know that it’s late. Mrs Walker had been stoic, from the moment of impact, to the point when she pulled her girls from the wreckage. Now, with the door to Shibden Hall within striking distance she keens. Crying aloud into the night. 

‘Mr Lister! Miss Lister! Please, help us, please help us!’ she screams, banging on the door with both fists.

Elizabeth and Ann stand back, stunned at the emotion their mother is showing, here of all places, in the middle of the night. Ann had begun to feel hollow, as though she wasn’t really here at all. As if this were a dream to be woken from, clean in her night shift, wrapped up in her bed. Hearing her mother thumping on the door, crying from the pits of her stomach, brings Ann back to reality. And reality is terrifying. Ann had almost died, and now she was standing outside Miss Lister’s house in tatters. Her nerves frayed like never before, her dress sliced apart by broken glass. 

Suddenly, the door opens, John Booth standing in the doorway, staring at them in shock. Mrs Walker falls onto him, grabbing at his jacket and sobbing so deeply that she can’t catch her breath. She starts to tell him about the crash, about the coachman, words sticking within her throat. Seeing mother like this alarms Ann and Elizabeth. They stand rigid, each holding on to the other in silence. It is now that the elder Miss Lister and Mr Lister appear in the hallway, Mr Lister calling out to Booth, asking what the matter is.

‘Mrs Walker, sir! Their carriage has been in an accident, in the valley’. Mrs Walker stands, moving slightly away from Booth, looking at Mr Lister blankly. The elder Miss Lister moves forwards to grasp Mrs Walker’s arm, Mr Lister walks quickly back into the house, calling for his niece. Ann and Elizabeth follow their mother in, Booth closing the door behind them. 

Mrs Walker is guided through to a hard wooden sofa, Ann watches as her mother slumps down from Miss Lister’s aunt’s grip and into the seat. Ann hasn’t been offered a chair, and doesn’t know what to do. She is aware of the noise, the instructions being called out to servants, the bustle of the whole of the house in action. She just needs to sit down before she falls down. Without warning, Ann feels someone standing behind her, their hands under her elbows, supporting her. She knows, instantly, that it’s Miss Lister.

‘Come now, Miss Walker. Let’s get you sat down next to the fire, and I must find you a shawl. You will feel cold with the shock’ said Miss Anne Lister, kindly, over the shoulder, and into the ear of the delicate girl. She begins to move them both closer towards the hearth.

Ann turns, gripping onto Miss Lister’s arms, just below her shoulders. She digs her fingers into Miss Lister’s firm flesh feeling the strength there, and clings on. Ann cannot look up at her face, just down at the woman in front of her who is focused on her as though she were the only thing in the world. Who is showing her such kindness, such care, that Ann is stunned by her attentions. Unable to speak, she simply whimpers like a wounded animal. 

‘Miss Walker, you’re bleeding. Please come now, let’s get you sat down’ 

Miss Lister guides Ann towards the hearth, and into a seat across from where Elizabeth was already sitting. Ann finds that she just cannot let go of Miss Lister’s arms, and claws at her as she tries to move away, grabbing hold of her shirt sleeve, and wringing the loose fabric around her hand, to anchor herself in. Ann had almost died tonight, and now finding herself so close to Miss Lister, she just needs her to stay there, regardless of how it looks, of how she looks. Ann’s eyes finally work their way up, to find Miss Lister turned to face her uncle across the room, asking him if Booth and his son have been sent out to see to the injured coachman. Hearing that this has been done, she then shouts to one of the servants standing in the door way for a bowl of hot water and linen to wash away the blood on the Walker’s faces. And for them to bring a bottle of wine, so that they can offer the Walkers a glass to settle their nerves. It isn’t until she is content that things are coming back under her control that Miss Lister looks down, to find Ann gazing back up at her. 

‘I thought I would die’ whispers Ann. ‘I honestly thought I would die’. And with that, she finally lets go of Miss Lister’s sleeve, her hands falling into her lap, her head following them, slumping forwards. 

Miss Lister crouches in front of her, her hands on her knees, elbows at right angles. ‘But you didn’t die, Miss Walker. And you seem remarkably well, considering what has happened to you. You all do’. 

Ann looks up, to see Miss Lister looking directly at her, her eyes wide and bright. The intensity is too much for Ann. Her eyes dart away, to alight upon her sister and mother, wrapped in shawls with a glass of wine in their hands. Miss Lister presses a warm, wet cloth into Ann's palm. Ann automatically raises her hand with the cloth to her face, and begins to dab at the fine cut in her hairline. ‘Now, where is that shawl for you’ exclaims Miss Lister, as she leaps up and marches off to find it. Ann sits alone, frozen by the roaring fire, thinking about how Miss Lister’s arms had felt beneath her hands. The memory of this begins to warm her. They were unyielding in her grip, solid and strong. The warmth these thoughts generate make Ann fidget in her seat, a million butterflies in her stomach, a fire kindled deep within her. 

Ann is startled by the speed the shawl is drawn around her, Miss Lister’s elegant hands swiftly tucking the ends up under her chin. As quickly as Miss Lister is there, she is gone. Another demand to be made of a servant, another question for her uncle. One of the Lister’s maids hands her a glass of warmed wine. She sips at it, her mouth and cheeks becoming increasingly reddened. A mixture of the heat inside, and the red wine on her lips. 

Miss Lister and her uncle return shortly, three lit lanterns in their hands. The elder Miss Lister is talking to Ann’s mother, and Mrs Walker begins to stand, rising slowly from the sofa. She reaches out to Mr Lister for a lantern, thanking the Lister’s for all their help. Miss Lister passes a lantern to Elizabeth, as she rises from her chair at the other side of the hearth, and then she turns to Ann and hands a lantern to her. The weight of it surprises Ann. She doesn’t stand immediately. Surely, they aren’t heading out again already? Are they to walk home?

The Lister’s shepherd the Walker’s to the door, with talk of how the carriage will be bought down to the Hall first thing in the morning to assess the damage, although Booth had informed them there really was precious little of the thing left. It will need to be replaced, rather than rebuilt in his estimation. Their horses were quite well, already fed, watered and stabled by George, and now he will return them to Crow Nest the next day. The coachman had been found, his ankle broken. Mrs Walker thanks them for their time, and their help. And with that, the door to Shibden Hall is locked behind them, and the three ladies are standing in the darkness, in warm borrowed shawls, each holding a heavy farm workers lantern with both hands. 

The walk back to Crow Nest is hard. None of the ladies are used to long walks, and the terrain is tricky in the dark even with the lanterns. The cold begins to seep through their clothes, and directly into their bones. No one speaks. The only sounds are teeth chattering, the drag of their skirts and the snap of twigs underfoot. Ann trails behind her mother, who is travelling as quickly as she dare in the dark, and Elizabeth, who is staggering a little, struggling to carry the lantern. Ann’s mind wanders to just minutes ago, when she was inside Shibden Hall, holding onto Anne Lister. Ann feels her chest tighten. Her mouth is dry, and she feels as though she is burning up, inside out. Weakening with each step, she is relieved to see the gates, where their land begins. They are now just minutes away from home. 

As soon as they get home, their maids are already awake and prepared for their arrival, with a bath drawn in each dressing room. Mother kisses each of her girls, holding one in each arm, gripping their shoulders. There are tears in her eyes, but she smiles and wishes them a good night. Elizabeth hugs Ann tightly as they get to her bedroom door. Ann lets go first, kisses her sisters cheek, and goes to her room to be undressed. 

Washed and in clean nightclothes, Ann lies in bed, wide awake, mind racing. Staring at the ceiling, remembering how Anne Lister had looked at her, how she had spoken to her, in her ear, and how her arms had felt under Ann’s grasping hands. Ann starts to breathe irregularly, she feels quite woozy, almost dizzy. Her body is raging, and she remembers the last time she felt like this. It was when she had awoken from a dream a few weeks earlier. Her heart had been pounding, and she was wet between her legs as though her menses had begun, but when she jumped up to check, it wasn’t blood at all. The dream was wholly forgotten, but the after effects of it disturbed her. Now it was happening again, and she was starting to think the reason for these feelings this time was the kindness that Miss Lister had shown her tonight. Ann had always felt things deeper than most people, her family were frequently concerned about how emotional she could become. Her esteem for her mercurial neighbour had turned into doting affection. Ann isn’t sure what to do with this realisation. She just knows that she has to find a way to get to know Miss Lister much better. She needs to find out if they share any interests. She would find out what she could from Catherine, and once something was settled upon, she would ask Miss Lister to join her in doing it. Perhaps she would learn how to shoot, if they didn’t have any common interests already. She could practice shooting pennies with her in the woods, as she had seen her do with her friend. The friend who kissed her and held her hand. Ann wondered if she wanted to kiss Miss Lister. And with this thought, a sharp twinge shocks her at the top of her thighs. She reaches down to see if she can feel what has pulled within her. It’s now that the door opens, and Elizabeth pokes her head around it, smiling. Ann’s hand stills, and retreats. 

'Ann! Are you alright?’ exclaims Elizabeth, as she sees Ann laid limply in her bed, breathless and flushed from forehead to chest. She comes racing across the room, her hand clasped to Ann’s forehead. She is hot, and damp, and Elizabeth begins to call for their mother. She wants to get a doctor for Ann. 

Ann comes back to earth and calms her down. ‘I’m fine, I’m just too hot, too cuddled up in bed when the room is so warm’.

‘Ann, the room is not warm! Not by any measure! And you are sweating. Let me get mother, and have her arrange Dr Day to see you’ says Elizabeth, firmly.

Ann can see the bruises down the side of Elizabeth’s face more clearly now, and winces as the cut in her hair tightens. 

‘I’m sure mother will have the doctor over for us in the morning. But I am fine, honestly’ Ann tells her. 

Elizabeth climbs onto the bed, and blows out her candle. The room is still lit, but the candles won’t last for long. The girls curl up together under the quilt, and await sleep.

Ann’s maid wakes her at 10am. Elizabeth has already risen. Ann is pulled from her sleep, every bruise on her body now throbbing with every breath she takes. She is seated in front of her looking glass, as her hair is brushed and tamed into ringlets. Powder is pressed to her face, in a vain attempt to conceal the dark patterns tracing her cheeks and forehead. Her chin vaguely purple. The cut on her arm bandaged, where she had pulled a shard out when they were still in the carriage, as it rolled down the hill out of all control. She tugs at the fabric, idly wondering if she will be scarred. The maid dresses her, and selects wide pink ribbons, to adorn Ann’s hair. 

'No’, says Ann. ‘I would prefer the green ribbons today’. She smiles to herself, and wonders how else she will change now that she has been saved from death. Last night, she almost died. But she didn’t, and there must be a reason they were all three spared. Her life must now count for something, but what? She needed to find a cause, she realised. She would talk to Elizabeth, to see if she felt the same way, and to see if she had any ideas about what Ann could start to do with herself.

Ann descends the stairs to the dining room. Father had already left for the day, but mother and Elizabeth are seated, drinking tea slowly with lots of sugar. A cup is poured for her, and she drinks from it immediately, amazed at how thirsty she is. The three sit in a comfortable silence, enjoying being close to one another. Their footman knocks on the door, entering the room with a letter on a silver tray. It is handed to Mrs Walker, who flicks it open with her side knife. It’s a letter from Miss Lister, Mrs Walker announces. She says that the wood and metal from the carriage has been collected, and that one of the Lister’s tenants will be bringing it over later this afternoon to Crow Nest on his cart. It had been entirely destroyed, and Miss Lister thanked the Lord that they had all walked away from the disaster with scratches and bruises. She also says that the Lister’s would visit the Walker’s in the early afternoon. Their eyes all shot to the clock at the same time, it was 11.30am. They would be here any minute. Ann gasps, loud enough to break the silence, and she finds mother's and Elizabeth’s eyes on her. Her mother looking out of concern. Elizabeth smiles at Ann slyly, as if they have a private understanding. Ann is at a loss to know what that might be, so she returns her look blankly. 

'I shall go back upstairs for a moment’ Ann announces, gently. 

‘And I shall join you’ smiles Elizabeth. The two are excused by their mother, and they ascend the stairs shoulder to shoulder. 

‘You know what I think’ whispers Elizabeth. ‘I think that if I adored Captain Sutherland half as much as you adore Miss Lister, we would have been married already’. Ann feels as though the air has been kicked out of her. 

‘What? What on earth do you mean?’ hisses Ann. ‘How can you think that I adore her?’

‘Because I have eyes, Ann’ says Elizabeth quietly, as they reach the top of the stairs, and she turns to face her young sister. Ann stares at her, open mouthed. Elizabeth nods at her, and follows her into her room. She shuts the door, and carries on into the room, to the bed where Ann has flopped. 

‘Really, I have no idea what you think you can see, but I can assure you that you are very wrong’ Ann says flatly. 

‘I honestly hope I am, Ann’ Elizabeth says softly. ‘You are too young and too naïve, and the world isn’t kind’. 

‘Even if I did feel -' Ann stumbles, trying to assemble a sentence '- that 'way', it wouldn’t be reciprocated’ Ann tells her. ‘I am too young, it is true. And I fear I have not much in me’. 

‘You have no idea if it will be reciprocated. You have no idea what people say about her. Even if only a third of it holds the smallest grain of truth, if you carry on throwing yourself at her whenever you see her, she won’t fail to notice it. And what would you do then? I would give you the same advice if she were a gentleman, Ann. You must be aware of how things can look, and you must learn to exhibit your affections less publicly. As I do with George.’ 

Ann isn’t used to being told that her emotions are too obvious, that her silence has something else behind it. The girls look at one another, Ann unsure what to say. She is saved from needing a reply, as there is a knock on the door. The Lister’s have arrived, and are in the drawing room. Ann bolts for the exit, not wishing to see Elizabeth’s expression. She runs down the stairs, not from a need to be near to her muse, no it isn’t that. It’s from a need to be away from Elizabeth. 

She almost runs into the drawing room, pulling herself up sharply as she reaches the door.


	7. No More Nervousness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tuesday 2 May 1820 Halifax  
> Good accounts from Crownest. At 11 ¼ my uncle and aunt and I set off to call there. Staid (sic) about 20 minutes. Saw and found them all very well, suffering from nothing worse than the fright, the shake and a trifling varying and bruising. Saw Mrs Mary Walker then which prevailed our calling at Cliffhill. Went along the fields and thro’ the village and sat about 20 minutes with Mrs. Priestley at Lightcliffe. Went and returned by the road and walked leisurely viewing the diversion which they have just begun near John Howarth’s. Got home at 2 ½. Then wrote this journal of yesterday and today. My aunt gave me four pounds just after tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Ann!

She almost runs into the drawing room, pulling herself up sharply as she reaches the door.

Ann presses her palms onto the closed door, catching her breath. She stands, rubs her hands over her hair smoothing it up at the back, and down over her skirts, to ensure they aren’t damp with sweat. She takes the door handle, and walks in, head held high in her best lemon dress with her favourite green ribbons in her hair. Bruises dotted down the side of her face, obscured with powder. She smiles. Miss Lister stands, as does her uncle, as Ann enters the room.

The Lister’s are seated by the main window, sunlight pouring through onto them, illuminating Miss Lister from behind. Ann’s face breaks out into a glorious smile, fixes her eyes on Miss Lister, and thinks how like an angel she appears. Ann is struck by how elegant the woman is, how tall, with such posture. She has a white frilled collar and stock, pinned with a ruby heart at her neck. Her hair is almost as dark as the black silk pelisse she is wearing, and the glossy curls that land at her flushed cheeks are shining in the sunlight. Her skin is luminous, clear and lightly tanned. Ann wonders if she has been working with her men on her estate again, and finds that her eyes are roving over her arms and shoulders as they have done so many times before. Miss Lister is the most exquisite woman Ann has ever seen. The elder Miss Lister and her niece are sharing the yellow sofa. Mr Lister has been seated in a matching yellow chair, next to his sister’s side of the sofa. 

Ann’s eyes fix on Miss Lister, as Ann crosses the room swiftly towards her. Miss Lister offers her hand, and Ann clasps it between her right and her left, warmly. This is how she has seen her father shake hands when he welcomes guests, but it feels stiff and unauthentic now Ann is trying it herself. She feels destabilised for a moment, as Miss Lister's eyes meet hers. Her muse, however, remains perfectly calm. Ann Walker is just too thrilled to have Anne Lister’s hand in hers. Even her hand feels strong, her fingers long and tapering. Feeling the power in it makes Ann feel oddly powerful too, and this spurs her on. 

‘Miss Lister! What a pleasure it is to see you again, after how kind you were to me, to us all, last night’ 

Miss Lister continues to meet her gaze, and smiles.

‘It was no pother at all! We are just too pleased to see you all so well after such a dreadful accident’

Ann has yet to let go of Miss Lister’s hand, when she is suddenly aware of Elizabeth at her side. Miss Lister turns to Elizabeth, smiles, and pulls her hand away from Ann’s to shake her sisters. Ann finds that the fingers of her right hand graze Miss Lister’s palm, whilst the fingers on her left hand rub along the back of Miss Lister’s hand. This action shoots a bolt of lightning through Ann, whilst her guest seems barely to notice. Ann stands to the side as her breathing hitches in her throat, and allows Elizabeth to shake the elder Miss Lister’s hand, before following suit herself. It isn’t until now that Ann realises that her mother has been in the room all the time, and she is looking with astonishment at Ann. Ann thanks Mr Lister, and as her sister moves to sit near their mother, Ann moves back to the chair next to the side Miss Lister is sitting on. 

She sits down, a matter of feet away from her muse, her eyes straying to look at her neck, the tendons that run down into her collar, the line of her jaw, her ear. Miss Lister sits down as she speaks to Ann’s mother. Ann is always in awe over how beautiful the tone of Miss Lister's voice is. Her memory returns to Miss Lister speaking over her shoulder and into her ear last night. She returns to the here and now, as she hears Miss Lister laughing at something she, or someone else has just said. Her eyes lightly crinkle at the corners, her velvet lips are plush and full. Ann is spellbound, and doesn’t see how Miss Lister’s aunt and uncle look at her, both observing how infatuated Ann clearly is over their extraordinary niece. How stunned her mother is at how forward she is being. Elizabeth’s stare bores through her. The only person unaware of Ann’s attentions is the muse herself. And Ann, who is too concerned with locking every aspect of Anne Lister to memory. She must be able to retrieve this image, she has to remember just how bright Anne Lister’s eyes are when she smiles, the exact shade of her lips, curve of her brow, for when she creates another sketch of her. The sunlight plays across Miss Lister’s face, and Ann locks this into her memory too. She has been taking art lessons again, this time with a gentleman her cousin Mr William Priestley knows from his music society. A Mr Hudson, who has been showing her techniques to capture the light. What she now has before her will be her first study. She cannot wait to get started. Ann’s eyes are still fixed on Miss Lister, as she turns to face Ann again. The intensity is almost too much for Ann but she braves having Anne Lister meet her stare. Miss Lister looks away first, tracing her gaze across Ann’s powdered but bruised face. 

‘The bruising looks painful, Miss Walker. How is the wound on your arm faring?’

‘Oh, it’s not as bad as it may have appeared last night’ Ann touches the bandage under her sleeve ‘now the wound is wrapped up tight, it seems to be as well as it can be’ Ann replies warmly.

‘You were all’ and at this, Miss Lister turns away, once again addressing Ann’s mother and sister as well, ‘so incredibly lucky to have walked away intact’.

‘Have you seen the carriage, Miss Lister?’ Ann’s mother enquires. 

‘What little is recognisable as a carriage, yes’ replies Miss Lister, amazed at the memory of the scene at the bend in the road.

***

Their footman knocks, and walks into the room carrying a tea tray with the silver teapot, milk and sugar bowl, fine china cups and saucers with small silver spoons tinkling. He places the tray on the table, closest to where Ann is seated. She jumps up, pouring a tea for Mr Lister, the elder Miss Lister, and then for Miss Lister herself. Again, Ann takes the opportunity to run her fingers down Miss Lister’s hand, as the saucer is passed between them. The storm within her created by the first touch is reinvigorated. Ann is aware that her mother and the three Lister’s are engaged in a lively conversation. Ann isn’t really listening, all she can hear is her heartbeat pounding in her ears. She looks over at Elizabeth, and remembers she still has to pour tea for her sister, her mother and herself. She quickly gets back to the task in hand, trying to not meet Elizabeth’s eyes as she passes her a cup and saucer. She knows that Elizabeth disapproves of Ann ‘throwing herself’ at Miss Lister, but Ann remains in a heightened state of awareness from the accident. She almost died, and if touching Miss Lister’s hands makes her feel happy, why would she deny herself? Ann has decided that from now on, she won’t deny herself anything that she truly desires. Life will be for living from now on, no more nervousness. 

‘So the carriage has been recovered? Already?’ asks Mrs Walker, addressing Mr Lister. ‘And there really is no hope of it being repaired?’

‘Ah, well my Niece’, and he gestures towards Anne, ‘was up with the cock crow this morning to help Booth and Pickles collect the debris from the wreckage, so she knows more of how it appeared than I, but it shall be returned to you by Pickles later today’

‘You Miss Lister? You went to collect the carriage?’ Mrs Walker is amazed.

‘Well, yes’, replies Miss Lister. She is confused by the question.

‘Do you find such an activity is well suited to a lady? A young woman of your breeding?’ Mrs Walker is in shock.

‘I do!’ replies Miss Lister, with enthusiasm. She leans forward, knees apart, elbows on knees, facing Ann’s mother.  
‘I have spent a great deal of time, and money, working on my education, my intellectual pursuits. These would be worthless, if the body the brain is to be carried within is weak or unfit. I intend to keep both my body and my mind equally active’. 

She smiles a smile meant to charm the greatest sceptic, first at Mrs Walker, then glancing around the room she fixes a smile at Ann, who is sitting in the chair at her side, captivated by her passion.

Ann has often thought about how physically fit Miss Lister is. Ever since she saw her digging and planting on the Shibden estate. Clearly more so than she is herself, if the walk home last night is anything to go by. Fitter than Elizabeth and her mother too. She wouldn't know where to start in collecting and carrying the wreckage of a carriage. She remembers seeing Miss Lister carrying an urn, and wandering the paths looking for the optimum place for it. How her shoulders seemed so squared, her arms gripping the stone feature with apparent ease. Her mouth is running away with her.

‘I have thought for some time that you must be incredibly fit and healthy, Miss Lister. I saw you planting shrubs some time ago, and were amazed that you could dig and carry as well as your men were able’.

‘You saw me do all that, Miss Walker?’ Miss Lister asks, with a crooked smile. ‘And yet you didn't come over to help?’ She laughs, conspiratorially, leaning slightly towards Ann as she does so.

Ann ought to be stunned to silence, but she isn't. A strange boldness comes over her. She finds she cannot stop her words tumbling out, in one breathless babble.

‘Well, we hardly knew one another at the time. I wouldn't like to impose. Plus, I really do not think I could dig as quickly, or as efficiently, as you do. I’m not sure I could be useful to you’

Miss Lister looks at her, her eyes moving across Ann, studying her. 

‘Perhaps not’ she states crisply, doubtless remembering where she is, and she resumes her upright position. Her hand immediately drops to her waist, and she retrieves the silver watch and chain from its pocket, opening it to check the time, and then spinning it on its chain from one hand to the next.  
With this, the conversation moves on. Ann glances over at Elizabeth who is looking at Ann in a reproachful manner. Had she said something wrong? Gone too far? Been too doting?

The elder Miss Lister is stunned at the exchange, and stares at her niece. She isn’t the only one, as Ann’s mother struggles to enter into the discussion that Miss Lister and her uncle are now having about the carriage manufacturers in the region, and the modern styles which are now available. Ann starts to panic, her breath sticking in her throat. What has she done? The atmosphere in the room seems changed, and it’s her that her family and Miss Lister’s aunt are looking at. And the look that Miss Lister gave her? That isn’t how she imagines Miss Lister looking at her. But she was right, wasn’t she? What use could she be to Miss Lister? What a silly fawning child she has been. Ann feels a dreadful sadness come over her. She drinks the tea, and stays silent. 

The Lister’s are offered another pot of tea, another selection of cakes, but they decline both. Mr Lister stands, immediately followed by his niece. The elder Miss Lister stands and moves forwards almost in one movement, and she goes to shake Mrs Walker’s hand, thanking her for the tea, saying how thankful they are that the damage is replaceable, that the Walker’s are all so well if shaken. Mr Lister stands behind his sister, reiterating what time Pickles is likely to arrive, and Miss Lister reaches out to Ann’s mother to shake her hand. Ann’s mother hesitates momentarily, before offering her own. Ann and Elizabeth both catch this, as does Miss Lister. Miss Lister is brief, and offers her thanks to God once more that they are all in one piece. When Miss Lister turns to Elizabeth and Ann, it is to nod to each goodbye. Ann isn’t going to have the chance to stroke her hand again today. Perhaps never again, thinks Ann. Although, if she could manage to arrange a situation where she and Miss Lister were alone? Ann reminds herself that building castles will do her no good. Miss Lister only visits Ann’s family with her own, or to see her Aunt Ann or mother, so such an idea is just silly. 

Their footman responds to the peal of the bell, and the Lister’s follow him out. 

***

Ann’s mother marches over the room to Ann. 

‘What on earth has come over you, Ann?’ she asks, exasperated. ‘Are you in a fever?’ She touches Ann’s forehead with her palm, to find it cool ‘Why else would you behave in such a familiar manner with Miss Lister?’ Her mother is genuinely perplexed.  
Ann’s actions had reminded her of how Elizabeth can be when she has Sutherland over for tea. How Ann had passed the tea cup to their guest reminded Ann’s mother of how she would bashfully find ways to touch Ann’s father during their courtship. But to direct such attention to another woman? Why on earth would any girl do that?

Elizabeth jumps in to reply ‘Ann is in shock, still, mother’ she says firmly. ‘In all fairness, she really ought to be seen by a doctor. To make sure the accident hasn’t affected her more than we can see’. 

‘Oh, you are quite right Elizabeth. I shall write a note for the footman to take to Dr Paley’. Ann sits, in silence. She has nothing whatsoever to add, and is simply grateful that Elizabeth spoke for her. Her mother helps Ann from her seat, and she and Elizabeth help her up the stairs, and to her room. Ann will be in bed for the doctor’s visit. Ann’s mother just needs to get the note written. She will do this as soon as she goes back downstairs. She just needs to make sure that Ann is well enough right now. She must have banged her head, thinks Mrs Walker. That will be it. 

***

Once her youngest is settled in her bed, Mrs Walker leaves Elizabeth in charge, and she goes to find paper and ink to alert the doctor. 

'Oh, Ann!' exclaims Elizabeth, as soon as her mother could be heard on the stairs 'What are you doing?'

'I don't know' replies Ann meekly. 'I have no idea'. But in the back of her mind, all Ann can think of is how she can get Miss Lister alone. She must remember what she had told herself only minutes ago. No more nervousness. She needs a plan. And Catherine.


	8. Dreams are Curious Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monday 22 May 1820 [Halifax] ’Tis now high time to resume my regular course of study… I have done nothing since going to Paris last May & this excursion has lost me, as it were, a whole year. I must manage better in future. I am heartily sick of the way in which this last 12 months has passed & am as heartily rejoiced to get back again to my former habits & pursuits. May the event be prosperous… Came upstairs, after being with my aunt in the garden planting out some seedling sycamore trees… My aunt told James’s father of his son’s going. He answered it was right, in a way that was not very pleasing & as if he took his son’s part. My aunt & I were vexed at such want of civility & gratitude, & both declared he had no more favors [sic] to expect. I should, if I had any influence, [see] he should not [have] Willroyd Farm… The thought & feeling of having recommenced my regular studies has afforded me a pleasure & happiness I have not experienced of long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW. You have been warned.

In the days following the accident, her mother watches Ann like a hawk. Mrs Walker is concerned with Ann’s health for weeks afterwards, but there was something else too. Ann could feel that her mother had somehow changed towards her. She seemed suspicious. More than once Ann had found her mother looking through her bookcase, searching a drawer. And for what? Ann could guess. She fears for her sketch pad, and finds a gap between her bedhead and the skirting board that is just the right size to slot it. The little scraps of test sketches Ann burns in the fireplace in her room when mother and Elizabeth finally leave her alone one evening. 

Ann’s birthday comes around, and her mother allows her to have Catherine and Harriet Parkhill over for afternoon tea, with Ann and Elizabeth. Ann had hoped to perhaps even? No. No, she had never seriously entertained inviting Miss Lister. Why would she come? Her refusal would hurt too much, but also with how things are at present with her mother, it would not be a good idea.

Her mother has prepared a spread that includes Italian cream for the girls. All are thrilled with the dessert, and finish it off too quickly. Catherine produces a delicate bone paper knife, almost simply a frame filled with carved, cut out scrolls. It is perfectly light, and easy to use. Ann thanks her, the gift is simply beautiful. Harriet has bought a box of pastels, which are always welcome. 

Elizabeth had already given Ann her present first thing. A travelling art set. Ann is overjoyed. Elizabeth says that she hopes Ann will consider travelling. Perhaps the two of them could go together? Paris, or Italy. Goodness, even Scotland would be a break from Halifax. Elizabeth’s relationship with George Sutherland seems to have petered out, after she had refused to yield all in the gardens. Little has been said, and Ann remains surprised that Elizabeth seems disappointed by this. For her, this is the perfect chance for the sisters to get away for a while. 

Ann wants to know if Catherine has seen Miss Lister, if she has ever resumed her lessons. She hasn’t mentioned the lessons in an age, but she has discussed Greek poetry and frequently has tales of Miss Lister’s visits to her mother, aunt and grandmother. Catherine explains that, no. The classes never picked up again officially, but whenever she sees her she quizzes her on her reading, and is perpetually enthusing about how the original text is always superior to the translated verse. 

Ann asks Catherine if she too could be invited on a day that Miss Lister visits. Catherine is taken aback. Ann is rarely so direct. She hesitates at first, becoming more jovial as she goes on.

‘Yes, of course, I can ‘try’, but Miss Lister rarely arranges to visit on a particular day. Rather she tends to descend on you for half an hour or so. I could perhaps sneak a note out to you, but Miss Lister would be long gone before you could ride over’

Ann nods, she understands. Like her Aunt Ann before her, Catherine is keeping her friendship with Miss Lister very close, and isn’t about to share these prestigious visits with Ann.

The evening closes with two glasses of madeira each, the limit set by mother. It’s what Ann is sticking to, as the alcohol is making her feel very strange and she isn’t sure she should speak again for fear of what might come out. Whatever is going on in Ann’s mind at the moment, Catherine really doesn’t need to know. And this act in itself makes Ann feel desperately sad, because until now she has shared everything with Catherine. When she is in Miss Lister’s presence she feels absolute elation. But when she is alone with her family and friends, she feels afraid that she will say something in the wrong tone, use an inappropriate turn of phrase, anything that might reveal to them how she feels. She wishes that she could, as she isn’t sure what it is that she is feeling herself, and would dearly love to know what Elizabeth or Catherine thought. If they might more successfully name her feelings for their charming neighbour. Elizabeth had called it adoration. But right now, adoration doesn’t seem sufficient. When the evening comes to an end, and Catherine’s carriage arrives to take her and Harriet home, Ann is sad that she hasn’t been able to say more to her dearest friend.

Ann goes riding with Catherine the Monday after her birthday party. The first time her mother has allowed her out riding since the accident. Riding up the path from Cunnery Wood, they curve around the estate, travelling perhaps a little too close to the Hall. Ann hasn’t seen even the groundsmen, never mind the object of her day dreams, so she had decided to get as close as she can to Shibden Hall without leaving the bridle path. This idea produces instant results. The elder Miss Lister is out at the bottom of where her garden becomes field. She is directing her niece in where she would like some sycamore trees planting, and armed with a huge spade, Miss Lister is digging deeper and deeper, in order to plant the saplings. 

Miss Lister has her bombazine rolled up again, her black silk stockings and narrow laced boots visible to any passer-by. Her hair is down, and tied with a thick black velvet ribbon at the nape of her neck. Her black stock is loosened, her white shirt open at the collar. When she bends over to dig deeper still, Ann doesn’t take her eyes away as she sees down Miss Lister’s shirt to her stays. Her sleeves are rolled up clumsily. The shirt is streaked with dirt. Miss Lister’s skin is too, as the dusty earth meets her sweat. A leather gloved hand sporadically comes up to rub her forehead, to swipe away her hair, rubbing ever more dirt into her face and hair. Sweat glistens over her collarbones, like icing sugar over a cake.  
Ann is mesmerised. She can hear Miss Lister’s huffs and groans as she digs, she hears the elder Miss Lister instruct her not to plant them too close together. Catherine wants to approach them, as she knows them so well, but Ann stops her. Ann knows she is behaving oddly, and wants to go straight home. Seeing down Miss Lister’s shirt by accident has Ann flustered. Suddenly short of breath, her neck and cheeks blushing furiously. Ann finds herself ashamed of her feelings, embarrassed in front of her cousin, and worried her obsession is obvious to Catherine. Catherine is confused, she is well aware that Ann is behaving strangely, and it seems to be linked to seeing Miss Lister. Ann knows that at best, Catherine will be thinking that Ann is another silly girl who is afraid of Anne Lister. 

When they return to Crow Nest, Ann is very quiet. Elizabeth is there when they get back, and tries to engage Catherine on other topics. Catherine starts to discuss the books she has been recommended to read by Miss Lister. Ann is horrified that the conversation keeps coming back to her.

Eventually, Ann asks Catherine what are her favourites from the books she has been reading. One is ‘Prometheus Unbound’ by Shelley. Elizabeth asks Catherine if she has read it.  
‘Why yes! And Miss Lister has said that one of her friends, Miss Isabella Norcliffe, is to perform a reading of it at her next party at Langton’

‘Is it a play’ Elizabeth asks. 

‘Yes and no’ says Catherine with almost as much enthusiasm as Miss Lister herself. ‘It's meant to excite the mind, and for the reader to 'see' the action through the vision of their own imagination’ 

Elizabeth smiles, and asks rhetorically ‘And that doesn't make it a novel?’

Ann fears that an invitation has been extended to Catherine to attend this event, although she doesn't say as much.

Ann rides through Shibden Valley alone a few days later. Sees Miss Lister again, working, digging saplings out of a field to be moved elsewhere on the estate. Her sister is out with her this time too, pointing to the next one Anne must retrieve. Ann is concerned that Miss Marian Lister has spotted her. She remembers Miss Lister saying that Ann should speak to her when she passes through again. Ann can't. She has no clue what to say to her, and would sooner be silent than show herself up. She continues on her way to Stoney Royd, to visit Catherine's grandmother the elderly Mrs Rawson for tea, together with Catherine and her aunt Emma Saltmarsh. Other ladies from the Rawson’s extended tribe will be present too. 

Today is the first time she hears the gossip about Miss Lister, in full lurid detail, first hand. That at one time Ann’s cousin, Mrs Ellen Empson, was besotted with Miss Lister, it is said and she was lucky her reputation wasn't ruined by the rumours. Ellen had kept it very quiet and had never even told Miss Lister, although she had clearly guessed, and encouraged it. Ann is stunned that Mrs Rawson is saying this, publically, about her own daughter. What would she be prepared to say about Ann, should the need arise? The chatter progresses. Miss Lister is well known for her relations with women, as a man has relations with women. Who can recall the Indian girl who more than once accompanied Miss Lister to Shibden for the school holidays in their youth? Or the situation with the Belcombe girl in York! Almost a scandal, if it were not for the fact that the Lister’s know how to keep their name away from blame. It is the access she has to women gives her the edge over men with the same ideas running through their heads, one of the chattering ladies states. Miss Lister never has to do battle with a chaperone, does she? In fact, when these are the few known of, it makes you wonder about the rest that are not known in Halifax, proclaims another. Miss Lister clearly has a very particular talent. Elderly Mrs Rawson laughs loudly at this. Says that Miss Lister is living as they all should live, with her happiness and her desires that come so naturally to her, at the forefront of her mind. That everyone in the room would be happier if they followed her example. That she frequently visits with her, and that her spikey humour and breadth of conversation is a tonic, and that she hopes some of this wit will rub off on Catherine, although she hopes Miss Lister won't be found rubbing anything else. Catherine blushes, but the room laughs. Ann is entirely silent. Mrs Rawson chatters about Miss Browne, and Miss Caroline Greenwood whose nose has apparently been put out of joint. And who will be the next favourite? She tells Catherine that it's not to be her, and laughs heartily. Or perhaps it should be Ann, to teach her a thing or two about enjoying herself. Put a smile on your face, exclaims Mrs Rawson, loud enough for the whole company to hear. 

Emma Saltmarsh is embarrassed by her mother’s bawdiness, apologising to Ann. Mrs Rawson says that Ann is of an age to find all of this out for herself. If she painted herself up a little, perhaps it would be her who was the next chosen one? Emma tells Ann that Miss Lister would be horrified to know what was being said here. That such overt statements with regards to the private lives of anyone, never mind herself, embarrassed her greatly. That she found bawdy humour to be the height of vulgarity, and had walked out of one of Emma’s routs recently, after overhearing such talk in the drawing room. Ann is warmed by the notion she and Miss Lister finally have something in common. She asks Emma what Miss Lister is like. Emma says that her sister Ellen had always said that she wished Anne would leave Halifax. That no-one would ever truly appreciate her here. What a warm heart she had, what a true and genuine friend she was, and her intellectual capabilities that eclipse those of any man in the region. Perhaps no surprise then, that Miss Lister seems determined not to marry, even with suitors from the Rawson and Saltmarsh families, as well as many others over the years. Two of Emma's brothers had thought of it, but had been turned down on the spot. Excellent men, who were fascinated by her intelligence and charm. Men who had hoped to garner some lustre from the Lister name of course, but who also would have been happy to include Anne's ideas and interests in their businesses. But Miss Lister is wedded to Shibden, sighs Emma. Meaning that here she seems destined to remain, alone. 

Ann cannot quite enter into Emma's pity. Such a life seems idyllic to Ann. To be self-sufficient, and to never need a man to provide for you seems the perfect way to live. Her father has never been kind to her mother, she knows that much. A volatile man with a dreadful temper. And Elizabeth seems to find similar suitors too. Ones who haven't respected her when they were merely meeting with one another. How would such men behave once they had possession of you and all you had? Once you had submitted entirely to their authority, as all married women must? Ann isn't sure how she would cope with being alone all of the time, but it seems imminently preferable to being afraid in your own home. She does need some contact with others, in spite of her quiet demeanour, but if Miss Lister is to stay here, perhaps they could keep one another company at times? Perhaps, over time, and as Ann grew older, a friendship really could flourish based on this one shared aim? Ann smiles to herself. Always building castles, always dreaming of her future, a future that always has Miss Lister at the heart of it.

Ann's fantasy world has grown far richer in recent weeks. Now she knows what Miss Lister’s skin feels like under her fingertips, her hands so soft, although it was her palms that were surprisingly smooth. Her fingers long and elegant, the strength she felt when they shook hands. Ann remembers fondly of how Miss Lister’s arms had felt under her grasping touch. Unyielding and powerful just under the surface of her immaculate, silken skin. In the days following the accident, she dreams of Miss Lister’s voice in her ear. At first a soothing sensation, but the dream that ensues always ends with Ann throwing the covers back, to find the tops of her thighs soaked. Some evenings she doesn't recall the dream, but she awakes in the same manner. She almost feels cheated on these occasions, as there is something utterly debauched and thrilling about these images, the tableaux her mind produces, and the feelings that follow. She relishes the imagined feeling of Miss Lister pressed hard against her. Sometimes in the drawing room at Crow Nest, the two inexplicably alone. Other times she is walking, sees Miss Lister and within minutes Miss Lister has her hands around Ann's waist, her lips brushing Ann's face, her neck, into a kind of insanity. Miss Lister pushing Ann against a tree, her skirts being raised. The night that Ann dreamt of the tough bark scraping her back, as her climax spun her off into the stars, her legs wrapped tightly around Miss Lister, she could feel the cool breeze from the outdoors on her thighs. She awoke to find her covers thrown from the bed, 4am and the cool night air clinging to her moist bottom and thighs.

Ann always slept in her nightdress and drawers, but now her drawers are drenched so often, she has started to sleep without them. She was so ashamed in the morning for her maid to see her ruined underwear. She blushes to think of the house keeper, who now changes her bed linen far more frequently, although nothing has been said.  
Even upon waking, she often finds a passing thought of Miss Lister creates an ache where the wetness originates. She isn't entirely sure what any of this means, but she knows it isn't something to ask her sister or her friends about.

Tonight, after seeing Miss Lister at work, Ann’s thoughts wander to her again. Sleep will not come, all she can see when she closes her eyes is the view she had had down Miss Lister’s shirt. Her collarbone, her stays, the slight swell of her chest, smaller than Ann herself but still very much present. Her muscles, taught beneath her dirt and sweat streaked skin. Miss Lister is truly exquisite. Incomparable.

These thoughts work their magic, and once again Ann finds her thighs damp, and the aching within her excruciating. She touches herself, and it's as though lightening shoots through her. She explores herself, methodically stroking through wet folds, she finds her entrance, which fills with hot lava as her fingers linger there a moment too long. This seems to be the source of the viscous wetness. She sweeps it up, moves her hand silently back to her greatest need. The feeling, both physical and emotional, she finds here makes Ann realise that what she is doing to herself must be incredibly sinful. The feeling is powerful, surging, relentless. She finds she cannot stop, does not want to stop, and her thoughts are filled with Miss Lister the entire time that her hand is dancing across her sex. The very moment her imagination places Miss Lister's hand, rather than her own, between her legs, a bolt shoots through her. Her back arches from the bed, and she cries out in absolute ecstasy. She wonders about what she has just done. Just as long as she doesn't go inside herself, Ann thinks, trying to settle her mind. It's there that the real danger lies, she is sure.

Dreams are curious things. Apparently, their meaning cannot always be easily explained. You dream of one thing, but it means something quite different. Ann knows now that her dreams aren't a code for anything else. Ann is 17. She is old enough to be married. If she was a one of their tenants, she would be old enough to have had children by now. The real surprise should be more that these feelings haven’t occurred before.

Ann is on fire for Miss Lister. The dreams are her fantasies made almost real, where Miss Lister feels the same about Ann as Ann feels about her, and wants to show her a thing or two, as Mrs Rawson so indelicately put it. Ann never felt gifted enough to imagine herself as Miss Lister's student, but this she feels she too may have a talent for. Her need is insatiable. Perhaps this is an aspect of Ann that would hold Miss Lister’s interest, if what elderly Mrs Rawson says is true. Could it be that she could wheedle and caress Anne Lister into a sort of understanding? A companionship of sorts? Ann fears she has nothing else to offer. Her virginity, and continual adoration must hold some currency, surely? How many women can there be who are like Miss Walker and Miss Lister, after all?


	9. Man Keen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friday 7 July 1820 [Halifax] In the evening (from 7½ to 9½) walked with my aunt to Halifax to see a very good collection of whole length waxwork likenesses of eminent personages by Madame Tussaud, a Swiss who left her country (Berne) 38 years ago & has not been there since. I saw her collection (tho’ a different one from the present) 8 yrs ago in York. Admittance tonight, 1s. each.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ann has a revelation, and starts to broaden her reading.

Ann wakes, practically tied to her bed by her twisted bedclothes, her thighs wet, with a storm still raging deep within her. She washes, dresses in her new navy blue riding habit, and takes particular care of her flaxen hair ensuring the royal blue velvet ribbons are being shown to their best advantage. She applies power and a stain for her cheeks and lips. Ann feels that the elderly Mrs Rawson may have had a point about make-up, and she now applies it daily before she goes out riding. The lip stain especially adds something to her look, Ann feels as she studies her reflection in her bedroom looking glass. Her lips now have the depth of colour nature never quite delivered, plush and luxurious. Ann wonders about buying something to line her eyes. Although they always have a bright, mischievous sparkle to them these days, so Ann feels nature is working in her favour there at any rate. She leaves Crow Nest an hour before breakfast, with mother and Elizabeth still in their rooms.

She first travels across the Shibden Valley, close to Shibden Hall, through Cunnery wood. She searches the tree lined paths, the thickets, but doesn't see Miss Lister. She continues, rides down old bank and into town. Past the library - perhaps she is there? Or maybe Whitley’s? Ann rides up Horton Street, across Market Street, and down Northgate, past the Parish Church, up the Old Bank past Shibden once again, and along the freshly widened path. Ann wondered what the Lister’s were doing with the bridle path. But, there was no one in sight to ask. Least of all Miss Lister herself. 

She heads straight for Cliff Hill, disappointed and curiously flustered, to visit her Aunt Ann. Her aunt is surprised to see her. Why, how odd it is that she should visit so early? Ann takes tea and toast with her aunt, finding her largely uncritical presence comforting. Ann is Aunt Ann’s favourite, and it shows. Ann is pleased to have her close by, as she increasingly finds mornings with Mother a little stressful. Mother is out of sorts with her. Always questioning her dress choices, the time she spends away from home. Where is it that she is going? Who with? Who will she meet? And, why does she need to wear quite so much makeup to go there? Aunt Ann only comments on her riding out alone again. Ann tells her it’s to see her, as Mother and Elizabeth are both so busy. Ann doesn't tell her quite how far she has been already this morning. Ann is desperate to know if Miss Lister has visited her aunt recently, but dare not ask for fear something will give away her true feelings. A look. A tremor in her voice. Ann feels at times she walks around with a sign over her head, advertising her regard for the dynamic older woman, and is perpetually amazed that people do not comment. It is then that Aunt Ann announces in a voice loud enough to alert her servants downstairs, that the younger Miss Lister had visited her a few days ago. How energetic she is! Such enthusiasm! Had Ann gone into Halifax recently, via the old bridle path? Had she seen that it is now four times as wide? This is the new road from Lightcliffe to Halifax, Miss Lister’s latest project. It makes Ann think, just fleetingly, of how she had wanted a project of her own in the aftermath of the carriage accident at Shibden. And how she has done nothing towards this in any way shape or form. All she has really been interested in since then is finding ways to see Miss Lister. Aunt Ann is incredibly impressed. How exciting! What a remarkable young woman Miss Lister is! Building a road, no less! Something that will remain long after she has gone. Miss Lister has said that she hasn’t decided as yet what the road will be called. Most likely it will be Lister’s Road, to be named after her family, not herself. Miss Lister isn’t as extravagant as some in Halifax would have you believe, says Aunt Ann. 

Ann must return home, as she has her art lessons late morning, early afternoon. Mr Hudson is keen for them to catch the best light. Her Aunt Ann is thrilled Ann has found her calling. She says that she hopes Ann will share some of her work with her, perhaps when she next visits Crow Nest. Ann smiles. Aunt Ann rarely visits Crow Nest. And she knows why – her black guard of a Father. Ann thinks again of how that will not be her life, if she herself can have anything to do with it. 

At home, in the privacy of her bedroom, Ann is in turmoil. Her nights and mornings are spent in a tangled, sweaty mess. Her days are spent riding around the area hoping for a glimpse of the object of her dreams. It has begun to feel like a form of insanity. Ann finds her days and nights are consumed by her fantasies. Bodies pressed against one another, Ann’s hands in Miss Lister’s hair drawing her ever closer. Impossibly close. Their lips stroking softly against one another, mouths slightly open, tongues searching. She dreamt that she visited Shibden, and Miss Lister had taken her pony to the stables there. And then taken Ann in the stables. She undresses her, it being a dream this takes mere seconds. Her dress gone, Miss Lister slams them both into the wall, passion overriding reason. The dream was so vivid that she could feel her teeth on her neck, her breath on her breast, her hands cupping her bottom, spreading her legs, whispering in her ear how delectable she is, how deliciously wet she is, how desirable. The frenzied entry into Ann’s virginal flesh. Her naked back held against the smooth cold stone. The burning between her thighs intensifying with every thrust, throbbing, until she feels the now familiar quiver deep within her, her most private place fluttering under her hand, her arousal pouring from her, burying her head in her pillows to stifle her cries. In every dream, Ann is offering herself willingly to Miss Lister for the first time, but every dream sees Miss Lister take her harder, and rougher than before. Ann cresting faster and harder each time. Ann is never sure what Miss Lister is using to achieve this effect. This is where her imagination finds its limit. A finger? Surely not, the feeling is too intense for something so slender to have been its originator. Fingers? Possibly? Her hand? Good heavens!

Ann draws or paints daily. This is the most prolific she has ever been, and has now filled two whole pads with finished sketches. The last was a study of Miss Lister's hand. Mr Hudson attends Crow Nest twice weekly, thrilled with how serious a student Ann has become, and is keen for her to try a portrait. He has no idea just how many portraits she has already completed in her favoured charcoal. He was especially impressed with the hand studies. He praised her attention to detail. The tendons, the nails, and he was particularly taken with how she handled the texture of the skin. He doesn’t ask whose hand it is, and Ann doesn’t feel the need to say. 

Having heard from Catherine’s grandmother, the elderly Mrs Rawson, that Miss Lister prefers to spend her time in the intimate company of other women, Ann is now keen to get to know her better as a matter of urgency. And that her key to getting know Miss Lister better is Catherine. Her cousin, closest friend and confidant. Yes, it might be the case that Catherine does not want to include Ann in the visits Miss Lister pays to the Rawson household, but there is always more than one way to manage a situation, of that she is certain.

The next time Catherine visits, Ann ensures it’s just the two of them. Elizabeth is out riding with her friend Jane, meaning she won't be there to prevent Ann from asking Catherine more about her illustrious visitor and family friend.

Catherine initially starts to tell her about the huge family holiday she is about to embark on to Scarborough. Her grandmother, mother, aunts and female cousins from the Rawson side will all be there. It promises to be quite an event. Catherine is sad not to be around for the Madame Tussards exhibition that will be at the great hall in July, but her grandmother has seen to it that they have the full floor of a new hotel near the bridge. There will be music, dances and walks along the sands. She is excited, and her mother has seen to it that she has a new gown for every day that they'll be there, and four new hats, too! She is certain parasols will be required, and needs one in a lilac or pink. Mauve would do it. Does Ann have one in such a shade that she could lend her? Or has she seen one for sale? She might pick one up in Scarborough, but would prefer to have it ready before she goes. Ann doesn't own such a parasol, no. Ann hasn't really looked at parasols this summer either. She has five, and that is plenty. She scarcely leaves the house without being on horseback. Catherine says that she ought to be careful about her habit of going out alone. She has heard that Ann has been riding alone, at least once all the way into Halifax. Alone Ann! What will people say? Ann is confused. She isn't shopping alone in Halifax, just riding through. Catherine asks if Ann's mother knows about these habits. Ann's downward expression tells her all she needs to know. No, Mrs Walker has no idea. Ann asks her who it is who has seen her, and why has this person chosen to tell Catherine, but has so far not mentioned it to her Mother? Catherine tells her it was Miss Lister. Ann's heart stops. Miss Lister has spotted her? Has she known all along that Ann has been seeking her out?

Catherine is looking at Ann quite puzzled.

‘Ann, whatever is the matter with you now? Miss Lister won't tell your mother, or your father about it. She only told me, that I might tell you that you'd been seen. Miss Lister is all for leading an independent life, and she always says that the best way to ensure this is to arouse no suspicion amongst your relatives. She tells me that she was reckless as a girl, and she almost lost her family’s respect. That it really isn't worth worrying them, you just need to be more careful’.

Ann is amazed at the conversation Miss Lister has clearly had about Ann. Such advice from such an esteemed lady is precious. Miss Lister is right, as ever. She must garner some independence, but not in such a public manner.

‘I should like to thank her. For alerting me to my folly, and for not going straight to my mother. Can you thank her on my behalf?’

‘Oh, just thank her yourself when you next see her. When she visits Crow Nest again, or Cliff Hill’.

‘But Catherine, she doesn't! We have invited her countless times, she always agrees, and then nothing. Why did you think I asked you to let me know when she was to visit with you again?’

‘Well, you didn’t ask me that several weeks ago because of wishing to thank her for her comments today’. Says Catherine, measured.

‘Ah, no, that is true’. Says Ann. ‘When I asked you to invite me along too, I, well I simply wished to see her’.

‘What?’

‘Oh Catherine. I have no idea what has happened to me. I am just too keen to be near her. And have so few opportunities, I have been creating them by travelling through Shibden Valley’.

‘As we did a few weeks ago? When I would have spoken to her, and you would have had the chance to speak to her too? But you stopped me??’

‘Yes! But Catherine, I couldn't, don’t you see?’

‘Is it your nerves? Oh, my dear Ann!’

‘Catherine, sometimes I feel so confused. I just find her utterly beguiling. She fascinates me’.

‘She fascinates all of Halifax, Ann’, replies Catherine.

‘No, but, I just can't quite get to the crux of it. I just find myself trying to find ways for our paths to cross. Find ways to be near her’.

‘My grandmother said that when she first met her, she was just 15, a teenage girl, but her mind was already razor sharp. And she had the wit and charisma of a man more than twice her age’ states Catherine.

‘Of a man? Are men known to be witty and charismatic?’ Asks Ann, incredulous.

‘Well, it’s all in her manner you see. How she is with women old enough to be her mother, it’s this that singles her out. She flatters all the ladies in Halifax. That's why my grandmother, my Mother, my aunts... your cousin Mrs William Priestley, she is the worst yet! Like a blushing school girl in Miss Lister's presence! Oh, Ann, they all adore her. Will wrangle any excuse to have her as part of their party. They jostle one another, attempting to gain her favour as though her attention were a prize. My grandmother always says that the flaw is not in Miss Lister, the flaw lies with the men in Halifax who are so dull when it comes to pleasing their wives, that they are forced to seek their entertainment elsewhere. They should be glad that they would be satisfied with flattery, or else they'd find their wives lost to other men. Isn’t this how you have been feeling? You are just smitten with her flattery, as they are Ann! That’s what all this is about. And I can be flattered too, at times, I will admit’.

Ann wonders about her evening habits, and wonders if all these other women, share that with her too. If Catherine does. She doubts it.

‘Thank you, Catherine. I am sure you are right. I was just so worried and out of sorts with myself, as I hadn't felt such idolatry for a person before. She is rather dazzling, isn't she, so it shouldn't have been a surprise that she is met with such fondness from others’.

Ann wonders about being smitten by Anne Lister's flattery. That can't be the answer in her situation, she thinks. Anne Lister has never flattered her. Really, she has hardly even spoken to her. The most attention she has ever had from Miss Lister was after the carriage accident, when she was so gentle, so kind. Yet the effect being in the same room as her has on Ann! Oh! There is absolutely nowhere on earth Ann would rather be. Her perfect day would be to ride across Lightcliffe and Shibden with Miss Lister, and then spend the evening sitting with her as she read, wrote letters, filled in her diary entry. She wonders if Miss Lister mentioned their carriage accident in her diary? If she wrote anything about Ann grabbing at her? Or about Ann sitting too close to her, when she visited Crow Nest the day after? Catherine says that half of Halifax are terrified about what she might have written about them in that diary. Ann is just desperate to think she might have been included in her daily thoughts.

‘I think that when we next see her, you should let me speak with her’ says Catherine, kindly. ‘Then you will be able to build up your own acquaintance with her’. 

‘Yes, yes I think you are right Catherine. As soon as you return from Scarborough’.

‘We could go before! I have time tomorrow!’ Catherine exclaims.

‘Well, I would sooner know more about her before then’ says Ann ‘What does she like? What doesn’t she like? How does she prefer to spend her days?’

‘Well, let's see. She reads. A lot. Far more than anyone I have ever met. Devours books. Has an account at Whitley's. Hardly ever novels, more factual books. Text books on medicine, human anatomy, farming, that chain of thought. She adores Byron! When Don Juan was published, she rarely spoke of much else! If you want to have something to speak to Miss Lister about, then read some Byron’.

‘Isn't Byron’s poetry, well, filthy?’ asks Ann. 

‘That is a matter of taste’, says Catherine, in a mock haughty manner. ‘Those who have none say it is. Miss Lister says that Lord Byron is the greatest poet of our age’. 

‘She loves Greek and Latin. She’s always keen to talk about Greek poetry. Saphos is one she tends to ask people about, so get ahead of her and read some. I have a copy she gave me, in the translated form’. 

‘What is the subject?’ asks Ann.

‘Well,’ Catherine says. ‘It's rather rich for the blood. Perhaps you will be shocked’ she giggles.

‘So Saphos is filthy?’ whispers Ann. 

‘Well, at times, yes!’ 

The two of them huddle together on the sofa, sniggering and giggling away, both slightly awkward about the risqué turn of their conversation. Ann wonders how she would feel reading something like that. She flushes from her chest to her forehead, embarrassed to think how much she wants to find out. 

‘I think if I were to try to converse with her for any length of time, I would bore her terribly’ Ann says, suddenly deflated. ‘She is so educated. Far more so than anyone I have met’.

‘She did attend a very exclusive boarding school. The Manor School in York. But she was expelled, you know’.

‘Was she? Did she tell you that?’

‘No, grandmother did. That is when she moved to Shibden. After being sent away from school. That's why she is so educated. Being a pupil there. And it’s how she knows so many high ton people’. 

'Why was she expelled?'

'Why do you think?' says Catherine, knowingly. Ann catches her meaning immediately.

Ann arranges to collect the Saphos collection from Catherine before she goes away on holiday. She will head to Whitley’s to pick up a copy of Don Juan too. Preparation is going to be everything. She cannot be dull when she gets to talk to Miss Lister. She must appear well read, and keen to learn more. Lip stain and pretty hair has been an excellent start, but that isn’t what will keep a conversation going.

The Madam Tussaud exhibition comes around quickly. The whole of Halifax is keen to see it, meaning huge queues for tickets. Ann’s mother sends a servant into town to buy tickets for herself, Elizabeth and Ann, and also for two of Elizabeth’s friends, Jane and Charlotte. They will attend the evening session, so mother allows Elizabeth to invite her friends for an early tea. Ann is dressed in white, with royal blue accents in her slippers, her belt and in the ribbons in her curled and braided hair. She lined her eyes in kohl, stained her cheeks very slightly, and stained her lips as deep as she dare. She wears her diamond earrings. Ann is most pleased by what she sees in her looking glass. She feels somehow older, even in white. She feels elegant. 

Elizabeth has also dressed for her party, in rose pink with deeper pink accents. Her hair braided into a tower on her head, jewelled combs placed amongst her curls. 

When Charlotte and Jane arrive, Ann is already in the music room with Elizabeth, listening to Elizabeth play the piano. All four are excited to attend the exhibition, but Charlotte is also excited for another reason. She has a suitor, and she believes that they are very much in love with one another. Elizabeth and Jane throw lots of questions at her, a hundred in an hour. Charlotte isn’t sure if they will marry, but she has never been more keen to spend time with a man. With anyone. Her romantic nature has been allowed to flourish, and she is thrilled to think that this fellow feels the same. 

Ann drifts in and out of the conversation. She has nothing to add, and really isn’t so interested in the relationships of others. Her ears are pricked when she hears Charlotte begin to discuss something that sounds very familiar. Charlotte is whispering, leaning in close to her captivated audience. Elizabeth and Jane both utterly fascinated in what she has to say. This brings Ann back to them, briefly. Charlotte is talking about dreaming about her suitor. Where he undresses her and shoves her against walls, trees, on the bench seat inside a carriage. She is afraid that reality simply cannot match the passion she has created in her mind. Elizabeth and Jane are both giggling at every turn of the tale. They all seem to have forgotten that Ann is there, and that suits her. She can feel her cheeks burning, from the embarrassment of hearing Charlotte’s very explicit story. It would seem that the dreams she has been having are not unique to her. Charlotte, who mother has always said was man keen, has the same wet thighs, the same fantasies of being ravaged by the object of her desire. Ann isn’t sure how she feels, having such a thing in common with someone her mother feels has loose morals. Charlotte’s interpretation of her erotic dreams is that she has met the man that she will marry. Ann sits, blushing furiously, in absolute silence. Is this it? Can it be that she wishes Miss Lister to marry her? Such a thing is impossible, of course, but the very thought creates the familiar ache deep within her again. 

Suddenly, Charlotte sees her. 

‘Oh Elizabeth!’ Exclaims a tipsy Charlotte. ‘Just look at your sisters little face! She says she has had no suitors, yet look at her? I do believe that someone is telling white lies!’ she chides, laughing. ‘Your little sister knows exactly what is being discussed here!’

Elizabeth looks over to Ann. Ann is looking down at the hands on her lap. Silent, and red faced.

‘So, Ann! Who is the gentleman who has captured your attention so thoroughly? Has he been to meet your Father? Or are you still at the ‘walking in the gardens’ stage?’ Charlotte enquires. ‘And what an utterly delicious stage that is!’ she laughs, lowly.

Ann is frozen. Elizabeth looks at Ann, and then across to Charlotte. Ann is willing Elizabeth to say something. Whatever Ann has to say will only make the situation worse, she fears. Oh, why has Ann found herself here with ladies so much older and worldly wise? Charlotte can see right through her. Ann is entirely out of her depth, and Elizabeth knows it. She jumps in, attempting to change the direction of the conversation, and in doing so shifting the attention away from her little sister.

Charlotte looks at Ann, and her deep crimson cheeks. She doesn't believe this story one bit. One look at the panicked Elizabeth tells her that there is more to Ann's embarrassment than second hand tales of lust. But why push it? She is clearly only embarrassing the child.

Ann is finally rescued by her mother, who knocks once and then immediately enters the room, announcing that Father’s carriage is ready outside. The girls get their shawls and bonnets, preparing to leave for an evening’s entertainment. The five pile into the larger vehicle, chattering away, excited about what they are about to see. Ann’s mother starts a discussion about which famous faces will be represented there this evening. Ann wonders if Lord Byron may be one of them. Suddenly, it occurs to her that Miss Lister may also be there. Surely, all of Halifax will be there. She is in no way prepared to speak with her about Byron or Saphos. Although she has read a little of the later now. The verses she has read so far are not filthy. Not by any measure. They’re beautiful. The first poetry she has ever read that she instantly understood. 

The Walker ladies and their guests arrive at the great hall, and climb from the carriage into the bustling street. Hundreds of people are out in Halifax tonight, everyone in their very best clothes. Ann feels daunted, trying to move through the crowds to the door of the hall. Once inside, it’s almost as crowded in the foyer. Her mother and Elizabeth pull Ann along with them, knowing that she will be feeling a little overwhelmed with so many people. The main room has 27 wax works, 27 life sized likenesses of actors, writers, royalty, sportsmen and politicians. They are divided into sections, with the writers in the centre of the room. 

Ann hears Miss Lister, her strident laugh breaking through the incessant chatter in the room, before she sees her. Miss Lister is stood in front of the wax works of Byron and Shelley, looking at their likenesses with great curiosity. Ann is drawn across the room, leaving her mother and sister with their friends, laughing at the likeness of King George, showing him as significantly thinner than everyone in the Kingdom knows him to be. Miss Lister is with her aunt, and is wearing a sleek black silk riding habit with a tall frilled collar, silk stock and a ruby heart shaped pin holding the huge bow at her throat in place. Miss Lister is strikingly elegant. 

Ann finds her absolutely breath-taking. Ann cannot take her eyes away from her, but cannot bring herself to approach her. So her eyes follow Miss Lister and her aunt around the room, as they view each of the famous faces, moulded in painted wax. Most people in attendance are amazed by the clothes the wax figures are dressed in, flabbergasted by how real the hair looks, about how alike the likenesses seem to be. Apart from Miss Lister and her aunt. Both seem to notice the flaws, the dirty hems of the costumes, the dirt settled in the wigs, the slightly melted faces. 

Ann thinks that Miss Lister appears quite sad this evening, her usual spark seems somehow diminished. Ann wonders why this is, and if there could be anything she could do to make Miss Lister smile. As they sweep the room, ensuring they have seen them all, and have spoken to everyone they wish to, neither seem to see Ann. This emboldens Ann. Whilst she is invisible, she can get even closer. 

Ann thinks about how elegant Miss Lister’s neck is, her cheekbones, her jaw. Ann wonders what Miss Lister’s neck looks like without her stock. She wonders what Miss Lister looks like without her black silk dress. This idea, when it first appears in her head, shocks her. Initially she is outraged at herself for creating such thoughts. Such images. Such sinful ideas. She considers how luminous Miss Lister’s skin will be, beneath the black silk. Beneath her stays. After that all the nights where she has dreamt of Miss Lister kissing her, her body pressing fully against her, Ann is convinced that her mind is enticing her into hell, when in the dream everything is heavenly. 

Suddenly, Ann’s mother is at her side. She follows Ann’s eyes to Miss Lister, before pulling Ann to one side. Does she realise that she has been staring? Oh no, Ann says brightly. Inspiration has hit her. She wasn’t looking at Miss Lister, why of course not. She was looking at the life-sized wax work of Shelley. If he is half as attractive in real life, he must be a very handsome man, Ann remarks. Her mother smiles, and agrees. When Ann looks about her again, she realises that Miss Lister and her aunt must have already left.


	10. And silent ache for thee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friday 15 September 1820 [Halifax] 
> 
> Dressed & dined at 6 (having waited ½ hour). All went to Hipperholme to drink tea at Mr Hudson’s. Asked to meet the party from Crownest & Cliff-hill, & found the room full of people. A vulgar clergyman & his wife of the name of Wasney, staying in the house & Mr & Mrs Wm Moore, of Northowram & their visitor, a vulgar young man, a Mr Smith from Liverpool. Mr Watson there & Mrs W. of Crownest & the 2 ladies & Mrs E.P. of Cliff-hill, & Mrs W. Priestley. Talked a good deal to the latter & fixed to sit an hour with her on Tuesday afternoon. She said something about having given up asking me to dinner as it was ridiculous. She might, thought I, give me cold meat at six. I do not quite understand her… Spent a disagreeable afternoon. Told Mrs Priestley I was in dudgeon at being so taken in with the party & in these cases seldom subjected myself to the thing a second time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ann makes a decision, and almost sticks to it!

Ann knows now that there is little, if any point in continuing her obsession with Miss Lister. 

At the Tussauds exhibition, Ann had shone. Young men had stood near to her, gazing at her admiringly. Elizabeth and Mother had both commented on it, as had Charlotte, who has remained curious about which of them, if any, it might be that Ann dreamt of in her bed at night. And yet, nothing. Miss Lister, who just weeks earlier had so kindly alerted her, albeit through Catherine, that she should take more care when riding out alone, cut her and the whole Walker group at the great hall. She and her aunt spoke to whom they deemed worthy enough, and then left without a passing glance at Ann. She briefly wonders if elderly Mrs Rawson has got it wrong about Miss Lister. Perhaps she isn't as Ann is at all? Ann soon dismisses the notion. She had seen her walking out with Miss Browne, and knew then that Miss Lister was as she is herself. Having bought Miss Browne back to mind, Ann feel even worse. Miss Browne truly is a beautiful woman. No wonder Miss Lister doesn't see her, Ann thinks. Even in her finery, with her diamonds and makeup, she just doesn't hold a candle to Miss Browne. If she is the sort of company Miss Lister can have, she won't ever want Ann. Surely in her teenage years, with her youthful complexion, this is as good as she will ever look? Ann feels low. As low as she has ever felt. And anxious. Will she ever be good enough for anyone? But where would be the point of someone else wanting her? Will she ever want anyone else?

She aches inside at the very thought of Anne Lister. It's the pain of something worse than rejection. It's the pain of having put all of yourself out on display, and yet still not being good enough. Her heart has soared to the heights of passion, of desire, of - dare she even think it - love? Or at least something approaching it. Ann knows what the poets wrote of, as she has now experienced those feelings herself. And she now weeps bitter tears because of it. When she was younger, just being in Miss Lister's presence empowered Ann. Now, the very thought of her made Ann feel weak. 

The night they returned from the great hall, Ann went straight to her room to bed. She threw herself down on the covers, and cried until her cheeks were streaked with the mingling of the blush, and the kohl she had lined her eyes with. Great, heaving sobs, endless hurt working its way through her heart. Miss Lister doesn't see her. Doesn't notice her, even at her very best, and never engages her, her sister or their mother in any conversation unless she absolutely has to. Such as when she sees them at another relatives home, or when they were at Shibden after the accident. She just doesn't figure in Miss Lister's mind at all. And after years of adoration, the realisation of this hits Ann very hard. Elizabeth had come in half an hour or so after they had first arrived home, and curled up on the bed with her, cradling her from behind. She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. She knew why Ann was hurting so much, and nothing needed to be said.

Ann has decided that the rides through Shibden must stop. Altogether. No excuses. She must also stop drawing and painting portraits of Miss Lister. Anne Lister can no longer be her muse. She must find another, or just simply give up drawing altogether.

Her ‘evening activity’, as she has come to think of it, needs to come to an end too. She doesn't know for sure if such actions are sinful, but the way it makes her feel, she thinks it very well may be. The next time such urges wash over her, she will push them away with the power of the Gospels. Her Bible needs to be revisited far more often. Take her mind away from such carnal imaginings. She will carry on reading Sappho and Byron, however. At least with them, she has found others who know how she feels. The poets have each been a revelation. Ann recognising much of what they have written in her own actions and emotions. She doesn't need to question them about how she feels about Miss Lister. They've already seen it, or felt it, and finally, they've given their opinion on the subject, all through paper, pen and ink. Byron called it the 'ambrosial sin', which sounds exactly as it was. A love that could sustain the Gods. A heavenly sin. 

Ambrosial was the only way to describe how she felt when her conscious self gave way to her subconscious self in sleep. Ann has barely been able to control what she thinks about when she is awake, and soon discovers she has no control whatsoever over her dreams. All Ann dreams of is Anne. Her strong arms wrapped around Ann, her hands firm on Ann's body, dominating her, controlling her in the most intimate way. Every morning she awakes, she feels numb and desolate in the aftermath of such ideas and feelings. When will she be able to say that this fixation is finally over? Will she have these dreams about anyone else? Thinking about other women in Halifax, Ann wonders who else might be as she is. Caroline Greenwood comes to mind. She had hoped for a relationship with Miss Lister too, so she had been told by Mrs Rawson. Ann tries to picture a time when she might have seen her, and found her attractive. She isn’t ugly by any means, but she isn’t magnetic either. Ann wonders what has given her the right to believe that she deserves to be in the bed of someone who could be described as ‘magnetic’. What an arrogant girl she has become, to see herself so highly. Perhaps she could feel fondly for a man? The idea of it brings her down to earth with a bump. She grimaces when she imagines any of the men she has met kissing her. The idea that she could do with any of them what she so desperately desires to do with Miss Lister makes her feel somewhat queasy. Can it really be that no-one else really matches up? Neither women nor men? Can it really be that Miss Lister is somehow infinitely superior in every way, than anyone else Ann has ever met? Even to the point that Ann can forgive her for cutting her at the exhibition? Ann worries that she could forgive Anne Lister anything. That is not a good way to enter into any sort of a relationship, with anyone. But that is how Ann feels, and that is that.  
She sits at her desk, and picks up one of the volumes of Byron she has been busy collecting of late. She opens it up at random, and reads:

“By day or night, in weal or woe,  
That heart, no longer free,  
Must bear the love it cannot show,  
And silent ache for thee”

The lines force her breath to catch in her throat. How many are there who have felt this way before her? Reading is a miraculous thing, Ann thinks. Books open up the world to you, and free you from ever having to discuss anything, or to ask a question out loud, ever again. Everything you would ever need to know, you could learn from a book. This, she realises, is where her calling lies. The project she felt she needed after her near death experience. The work she never began because she was wasting her hours and days ‘longing for a girl’. Such foolishness must be put to one side. She will see about teaching the local children how to read and write. Free them, as she herself has been freed, through words and ideas.

When Catherine visits next, she takes tea with Elizabeth and Ann. Ann raises the idea of her teaching at Sunday School. What did Elizabeth and Catherine think? Did they think she would be any good at it? Or would Mrs Priestley laugh if she suggested it? Elizabeth and Catherine are instantly supportive. 

‘Oh what a good idea, Ann!’ says Catherine enthusiastically. ‘You are so good with children, I am certain there is no one better to teach them!’

Elizabeth was fully in agreement ‘You will be perfect!’ she says, smiling. ‘Just perfect!’

Buoyed along by their support, Ann’s thoughts wander to Miss Lister. What might she think of Ann as a Sunday School teacher? Probably very little, Ann thinks. Miss Lister attends, then sleeps through the church services. She likely slept through Sunday School as a child herself. Ann chastises herself immediately for even conjuring up her name. All thoughts of her must cease. It’s the only way to stay sane. 

Ann then worries about what she would do if one of the children slept through her class. How would she handle it? The notion amuses her.

‘What are you grinning about?’ enquires Catherine? Whoever you were thinking of certainly lifted your spirits!’ 

‘Oh, I was just wondering if the children would get along with me, and I with them. And I really think we shall!’

‘And so do I!’ exclaims Elizabeth. 

Catherine wants to know all about the Tussards exhibition. Who was on display? Were they realistic? Who was in attendance? Any interesting people? Young men? She giggles, slightly embarrassed to ask. Elizabeth dives straight in – Ann was much admired, Elizabeth says. A lot of the young men present were standing near, looking over at her with interest. Catherine is delighted for Ann. How thrilling all of this is! Did Ann speak with any of them? She rushes on before anyone can answer ‘No’. Catherine was similarly admired in Scarborough, she tells her cousins excitedly. She attended a formal dance, and danced with three young men. All of whom were charming and proper. One was from Bradford, so not too far a distance to strike up a correspondence. He seemed well-bred and polite. Ann wonders if being well-bred and polite is what she should be looking for. Although who in Halifax is as well-bred as Miss Lister? Ann kicks herself. Yet again, another conversation has her thoughts turn to her muse. No, not her muse. Her neighbour. That is what she is, and all she ever will be. Ann needs to get used to that. 

Next day, and Ann is riding through Lightcliffe in the last of the late morning sun, to Aunt Ann’s home. She will have lunch with her, and perhaps bring up her starting at the Sunday School. She sees Mrs William Priestley often enough, perhaps Aunt Ann could ask on her behalf? Offer a recommendation at the same time? What could be better?  
As she arrives, she sees a carriage parked at the side of Cliff Hill. She is certain that it is Mrs Priestley’s. She hopes it is – then she can ask her herself, with Aunt Ann there to back her up.

From the moment Ann walks into the drawing room, the conversation barrels away from her. Aunt Ann and Eliza Priestley have had their heads together, and the result is, Ann will begin teaching Sunday School from this Sunday coming. She can shadow Mrs Priestley for a few weeks, and then take over a class herself. Mrs Priestley needs to focus more on the school house, and will no longer have the time. Ann is thrilled. Says that this is precisely what she had come over to ask. She can't thank Aunt Ann, or her cousin Mrs Priestley, enough. This, Ann feels, may actually be the work she needs to make a difference, to grow into womanhood. Perhaps her vocation will be to run a school as Mrs Priestley does? Aunt Ann tells her that her vocation is to have her own children, surely? And this will be good practice for her. Ann adores children, but, she isn't certain that they will ever be part of her future. The idea of childbirth is terrifying. And children can only come into the world through a man and a woman. No. As much as she loves their little ways, Ann realises that if she is to have who she wants, there will be no children. Elizabeth will have children, and Ann will see them all the time. That will be just as good. 

‘I’m not sure that I will have children, Aunt’ says Ann, with some confidence.

‘When you are married, you will have no choice’ states Aunt Ann, bluntly.

'Perhaps then, I shall not marry’ says Ann, bravado creeping through.

‘Oh, what a thing to suggest at your age!’ cries Aunt Ann.

‘Oh! My dear Ann! You sound just like Miss Lister when you say that! But only she will get away with it!’ Mrs Priestley exclaims through her laughter.

‘If not marrying is ‘getting away with it’, I shall be in good company then. With my aunt and Miss Lister’ replies Ann firmly. 

The air in the room shifts, and becomes somewhat cooler. Mrs Priestley is getting ready to leave, having spent most of the morning with Miss Walker. She seems far more eager to go than is usual, but she tells Ann to be at the Lightcliffe church at 8.30 on Sunday morning. And to choose an outfit that is fitting for Sunday, but that she wouldn’t mind should a child be sick on it. Ann smiles in response. But the smile is fixed. Sick? She hadn’t considered that!

Aunt Ann has a tray of bread, cheeses and fruits bought in for their meal, with the teapot refreshed. Aunt Ann doesn’t raise the notion of Ann marrying again, and Ann doesn’t mention that Aunt Ann isn’t married either. After lunch, Aunt Ann sets up the board to play backgammon in the drawing room, the pair of them always eager for a match. Ann so often wins now, but her Aunt taught her all she knows. She taught all of them, but Ann is the best. Aunt Ann is always praising her talents, telling Ann that she is far better than her sister ever was. Better than her brother even. She then mentions about Ann’s mother fretting about Ann recently. Asks her to give her less to fret about. Looks at her. Says that she needs to be more careful who she desires to be in the company of. Ann instantly knows who she means. She remains silent, but nods as if in acknowledgement. 

The clock chimes 2 o’clock, which startles Ann. Her art lesson starts at 2.30! She must leave and make her way home immediately. Aunt Ann laughs and suggests that this revelation has only come about as Ann was close to losing for the first time this afternoon. Ann feigns shock that such a statement could be made about her! She kisses her Aunt fondly on the head, as she stands to leave. 

Aunt Ann looks down, and quietly says ‘I only try to advise you for the best, Ann. If I could have married well, I would have done’

‘I know’ replies Ann thoughtfully. ‘But I am not sure that I will, regardless. He would have to be extraordinary!’

‘Such men do exist!’ states her aunt, with absolute conviction. It makes Ann wonder what her Aunt had lost. 

Half way back, she is met by Elizabeth, who had been sent out to look for her. Mr Hudson had arrived a little early, panicking mother. Elizabeth says that she almost turned towards the Shibden estate. Ann replies as casually as she can muster, saying that she hasn’t been anywhere near Shibden for weeks. Months, even. Ann manages to continue to evade Elizabeth’s questioning, by asking her how she is doing. Elizabeth says that she is feeling under pressure to marry. That Mrs Priestley is pushing mother towards thinking Mr Edward Priestley would be a match. But Elizabeth misses Captain Sutherland. 

‘For all his faults, Ann, no-one makes me feel like he does. My heart races, I can barely breathe, and my mouth is as dry as ashes! He excites something within my very soul, Ann’ Elizabeth gushes. She smiles, and gazing serenely over at Ann, their eyes meeting, Elizabeth asks cautiously ‘Have you ever felt that way? About someone? Anyone?’

Ann knows she means Miss Lister. She speeds up, ignoring the question, overtaking Elizabeth, and wonders when mother will start pushing her into a match, and if Mr Edward Priestley will end up being foisted upon her instead. She sincerely hopes not. He certainly doesn’t have much in him. No magnetism whatsoever, she thinks to herself as she races through the trees. 

When Ann walks into the hallway, perhaps minute or more sooner than Elizabeth, her mother is waiting for her. She studies Ann carefully, asking where she had been, and if she had seen Elizabeth. Yes, Ann says, Elizabeth is in the stables, and she had met with her half way home from Cliff Hill. Ann is let go, to race upstairs and change. Mother calls after her that Mr Hudson is waiting in the music room. Ann smiles when she realises that’s where the light is best this time of day. She loves the difference between light and dark in her work. Today will be a good lesson.

Once washed and dressed in an informal light blue day dress, Ann finds her tutor. Mr Hudson arrives early for their next lesson. He has bought with him some deep red, purple and orange oils, hoping to get Ann excited about the depth of red in the autumnal trees. He is concerned that after all these months, Ann still hasn't settled on a theme, on a style, on a muse. Ann looks out of the window, hoping her eyes will alight upon something she can use. Something she can enthuse about to Mr Hudson. Nothing springs before her, so she remains silent. Perhaps a self-portrait, he suggests? The idea makes Ann feel cold. She doesn't want to have to spend so long at the looking glass. No, thinks Ann, there really is nothing to see there. She will paint the trees, mixing the oils to match the depth of the leaves as they flourish before they fall, the sun streaking through the leaves and branches, creating a dappled effect that will require great skill to capture. 

Ann thinks about the last time she was this focused on something, on someone, with the sun burning behind them. She remembers when Miss Lister visited them the day after their accident. How ethereal she looked, how angelic, with the sun flaring behind her in their drawing room window. Ann feels her eyes fill with fat tears, as she lets them stay there a while before blinking. The room suddenly shifting in shape and focus as she looks through a distorted lens. Mr Hudson isn’t looking at her, he is looking at her canvass, as she starts to set out the image before her now in pencil. If Mr Hudson sees the tears falling down her cheeks, he says nothing about it at all. 

As they sit in the window, Ann mixes, and thinks about all the sketches, the paintings, she has completed of Miss Lister. She had had a notion that she ought to destroy them, lest they be discovered, but she can't. She doesn't want to. So they remain strategically placed in her room. Her beautiful silk bound book, containing all of her early work, remains between her bedhead and the skirting board. She will move that shortly, to the place beneath the loose floorboards near the furthest window in her room. The others are there already, waiting for it to join them. But Ann is still in the habit of looking through this book every now and then. Reminding herself of her abilities, and then being reminded of just how beautiful Miss Lister really is. How striking her clothing and dark hair is against her milky skin. Truly, the woman is a delight.

Mr Hudson has been speaking, as Ann had drifted off. He looks at her now, awaiting what exactly?

'Ah, so sorry Mr Hudson. Please, go on'

'Well, all I was asking is if yourself and your mother and sister will be attending my soiree on Friday? I know your mother had a accepted some weeks ago, but my daughters are keen to ensure I have as many young ladies such as yourself attend as is possible'

'Oh, as far as I understand it, yes we shall be there' Ann replies, smiling now as she thinks of the other young women who may be attendance. Perhaps the Greenwoods? Mr Hudson's daughters are not among the beauties of Halifax, so she doesn't intend to get to know them much better, but Caroline Greenwood has begun to interest her. She isn't as striking as Anne Lister, but Anne Lister is out of reach. Ann needs to focus on women who are available. And who are here in Halifax all of the time. Ann drifts again, wondering what it would be like to kiss Miss Greenwood. How she may respond. Ann wonders if any of the things she has dreamed of could ever come to life. She hopes that there are more girls made as she and Miss Lister are made. If there are two surely there are others? Perhaps it would be a little too much to hope that such girls will be in attendance at the Hudson's soiree? 

Friday evening comes around, and the Walker ladies prepare to attend the Hudson house in Hipperholme. Mrs Walker is keen for her girls to make an impression, and has them both wear white evening gowns, but for Elizabeth gold accents, with gold silk slippers and a gold silk sash at her waist, and for Ann the same in silver. Their maids arrange their hair into towers of ringlets, decorated with jewel encrusted combs. Ann applies a little make up again, to lift her eyes, lips and cheeks. She doesn’t apply so much powder, to allow her freckles to show through just a tad. Again, Ann looks in the glass, and smiles back at herself. She isn’t bad. In a certain light she might even be considered to be a beauty. 

Once at the Hudson residence, Mr Hudson’s daughters fuss over her and Elizabeth. Ann tries to like them, but finds she just can’t. They come over as crass and vulgar. The elder of the two makes a comment about Miss Lister being invited but not as yet arrived. The younger Hudson daughter glazes over at the mention of Miss Lister. Gushes how incredible and exciting Miss Lister is. Ann really doesn't like them now. Elizabeth backs them away. Does Ann wish to leave? Elizabeth knows she is trying to steer clear of any mention of Miss Lister, never mind Miss Lister in the flesh. 

‘No’ replies Ann. ‘Miss Lister isn't even here’

‘Yet’ replies Elizabeth.

Ann and Elizabeth go on the search for mother. Walking into a larger, light filled music room, Ann observes a Reverend Wasney with his wife, holding court in the corner to two or three party goers who appear desperate to get away from them. One of them, a young man with a peculiar accent, starts to drift away from the group when he sees Elizabeth. His intentions are clear, and wholly inappropriate for the time and the place. Elizabeth is disgusted at his display. Ann finds she really doesn't like the company here, and finds it easier to deal with by going into herself. Elizabeth spots their mother, standing near one of the far windows chatting to Mrs William Priestley. The two girls head over towards them, and Ann finds some sort of solace in listening to her mother and Mrs Priestley chat. It would seem that mother and their cousin are similarly unimpressed with the company here tonight. Mother had spied the Liverpudlian fellow attempting to speak with Elizabeth. Quite an unpleasant sort. Rough. Elizabeth wholeheartedly agrees. 

It is then that Ann’s gaze is drawn to the tall black figure that is rapidly striding towards them. Anne Lister is making a beeline immediately for their group, and Ann is floored. All her good intentions gone. She wants Anne Lister and no-one else compares. Looking at her striking features, her dark, gleaming hair in curls, her sleek black silk pelisse with a skirt cut improbably close to her body, Ann wonders how she ever thought she could forget her. How she could ever imagine wanting anyone else. Miss Lister immediately shakes Mrs Priestley’s hand, greeting her as if she were her closest friend in the room. She then turns to mother, asking Mrs Walker how she is as she shakes her hand warmly. Miss Lister then bows towards Elizabeth and herself with a ‘ladies', no hand shake for Elizabeth or Ann. Ann feels this, and immediately sticks her hand out, grabbing Miss Lister’s hand firmly to shake it. Feeling the softness of Miss Lister’s skin, and the power in her movements. Miss Lister is a little surprised, and looks right into Ann’s eyes as she they shake hands. Her look is one of curiosity. Ann feels her insides turn over. She is instantly wet, but for some reason she doesn't feel as uncomfortable as she usually does. Fleetingly she wonders if Miss Lister knows the effect she is currently having on Ann. But of course, she can have no idea. Ann feels determined that one day, this desire with be sated. 

Miss Lister asks how Ann is, and Mrs Priestley jumps in to say that Ann will be starting out as a Sunday School teacher this very week, to help teach reading and writing. Miss Lister smiles broadly, saying what an experience that will be. Ann retains Miss Lister’s hand in hers throughout the exchange, maintaining eye contact with her without feeling her usual insecurities. This contact is noted by all, and Mrs Walker jumps in to begin yet another discussion about how Elizabeth has busy seeking a future husband as all girls must. Mother and Mrs Priestley both looking directly at Ann. Ann isn’t ready to let go as Miss Lister pulls her hand away gently. 

Miss Lister bows her head to one side, smiles at Elizabeth and says ‘Be guided by your own happiness, Miss Walker. You shall have to live with the choice, no-one else’. She scoffs slightly, looks to the ceiling as Mrs Priestley begins to press Mr Edward Priestley’s suit. Miss Lister goes on to tell Elizabeth that she should choose someone though, as this, meaning Mrs Priestley and their mother, behaviour will only continue. That Mrs Priestley still attempts to talk of a match for her, even after all these years of knowing one another.  
As she finishes, the elder Miss Lister joins their group. 

Mrs Priestley looks to the elder Miss Lister for support. The elder Miss Lister smiles at Mrs Priestley, and then turns, beaming up at her niece. 

'We only want for Anne, what she wants for herself'. 

‘How does Captain Lister feel about that?’ Asks Mrs Walker abruptly, annoyed that Miss Lister is now advising Elizabeth on how to live, having already beguiled Ann. 

‘My father feels exactly the same as my aunt, Mrs Walker’, Miss Lister responds coolly. 

Ann and Elizabeth both look at mother and then at the elder Miss Lister. Both thinking how lucky the younger Miss Lister is to have a family who care about what she wants. Ann's eyes are boring into the object of her desire. Suddenly she realises that Miss Lister is saying that she is seeking to get away for a while soon. She will begin by staying with her old school friends in York next week. Ann remarks that perhaps Miss Lister is quitting the garden for the field, alluding to a Byron verse. Miss Lister turns to face her, and smiles at Ann, genuinely, for the first time. She wants to pull Miss Lister to one side and ask her to run away with her, that she could choose where as Ann would follow her anywhere. Ann wants desperately to lay her hand on Miss Lister’s arm and steer her away from her chattering relatives. She has noticed that Miss Lister is somewhat less exuberant, less in the mood to entertain than she normally is. Ann wonders why it is that Miss Lister seems so sad. Wonders how no-one else has noticed that Miss Lister seems to be just going through the motions this evening. True, she is still entertaining, still has an easy charm about her, but for Ann it feels forced. Ann has observed her so deeply, she would recognise any shift in Miss Lister’s moods. Miss Lister is not how she once was. Her smile is no longer as bright. Her eyes are guarded. No, she isn't how she once was, but neither is Ann. Halifax is draining the light out of the pair of them.

Ann feels that she must do something. Something to force the two of them together. Surely, they could make one another happy? If they were together, then neither would need to be alone. It seems that her prayers have been answered. They do have something more in common other than their feelings towards their own sex. Neither of them can stand living in Halifax much longer. Ann suddenly fears that Miss Lister will leave. Permanently. She can, she is in a position to. Whereas Ann must stay. And what would become of her then?

But, Miss Lister is with her aunt, and she is with her mother. Still, Ann cannot take her eyes off of her, and still Miss Lister fails to notice. The elder Miss Lister, Mrs Priestley, Elizabeth and Ann's mother are all fully aware of how Ann stares at the dazzling young woman. The four of them increasingly uncomfortable, as though they are witnessing something private that should not be seen in public. In mother’s view, that should not be seen at all. 

After a brief discussion about the friend whose family home she will be staying with over Christmas, Miss Lister peels away with Mrs Priestley for a private conversation. Mother is grateful for it. Says it's time they left, and within minutes they're bundled into their carriage after saying goodbye to Mr Hudson.

In the carriage, Ann stares out of the window. She feels Elizabeth's eyes bore into her. Mother speaks to Elizabeth, but not to Ann. When she does look at Ann, her eyes are as suspicious as ever. Even under such scrutiny, Ann is smiling. She doesn’t care. She is wildly in love, she just wishes her feelings were returned.

That night, when curled up in her bed, Anne Lister slams into Ann’s dreams once again. This time, it’s Ann's lips on Anne's. Brushing softly from lips, to cheek, to jaw, to neck. Down further, Ann unbuttoning Miss Lister's spencer, her fingers stumbling over the buttons, half blind with lust, kissing her collarbone, scraping her teeth along the ridge, nipping the skin at the top of her stays, and licking between her breasts. Ann's hands on Miss Lister's waist, pushing her back against the wall. Ann controlling what happens next, dominating Miss Lister, copying what she has dreamed of being done to her. Ann is determined to make herself useful to Miss Lister. To make Miss Lister happy. What more could she do for her, to make her smile again?


	11. The most natural person I have ever known

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The year is 1821, it's January and Ann Walker is 17 years old. 
> 
> Anne Lister on the other hand is in the run up to her 30th birthday, and has just returned to Halifax after several months at Langton, with Tib, Miss Vallance and a selection of her ex girlfriends sisters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thursday 25 January 1821 [Halifax] Met with Mr Edward Priestley about Whitehall, standing by the men mending the road. We began talking of roads, the new wall falling & one thing or other that he came as far as Shibden but could not come in. Perhaps his chief object was to ask me if I would be a subscriber to a book society they wished to establish. About 12 subscribers at one guinea per annum each, the books to be disposed of every year to the highest bidder of the subscribers, but if none wished to purchase, the recommender of the work should take it at half-price. I said I should be sorry their plan fell through for want of a subscriber but that such a thing was quite out of my way who went so often to the Halifax library & had there as much reading as I had time for. The thing originated with the young ladies at Crownest, tho’ Mr Edward Priestley had long ago thought of it, it was so long before they could get popular new works from the Halifax library; but I have no difficulty of this sort… George took my letter to M— (Lawton) to the post this afternoon. Came upstairs at 11. After curling, was an hour adding up each page of my last year’s accounts & examined all the totals of every month. There was an error of a shilling in that for April. Set all right & ready to balance.

Mr Edward Priestley is fast becoming a regular visitor at Crow nest. He had visited twice in this last week – Once to walk with Elizabeth in the gardens, and once for tea in the music room with Elizabeth, Father, Mother and Ann. Mother is thrilled with his recommendation from the Priestley’s. Father is too. This confuses Ann – Surely the Priestley’s would always find something with which to recommend their own relative? Wouldn’t a recommendation from someone neutral, such as the curate or warden, be more impressive? So much about how her Father and Mother see things seems to be at odds with how now Ann views the world. Ann knows that it’s normal to grow away from your family as you grow into adulthood, but she cannot help but worry about how wide this rift will develop. Once they have Elizabeth off of their hands, Ann doesn’t want to even imagine the pantomime they shall have when the time comes for her to marry. 

What her parents do not know, is that Elizabeth is writing to Captain Sutherland again, and has no intention whatsoever in taking this thing with Mr Edward Priestley one jot further. Ann has been let into this secret as Elizabeth is just too smitten to be able to keep the news to herself, and needs someone she can talk to about George, and who won’t tell on her and won’t judge her. This means Ann must be mindful not to mention it at the Sunday school when people ask after Elizabeth. She is particularly mindful not to mention it to Mrs Priestley. Not even to silence her mundane witterings, although the temptation is great. Ann is becoming short tempered in a way she has never been before. It’s not Mrs Priestley’s fault. It’s no one’s fault. Not really. It’s because she hasn’t laid eyes on Miss Lister for months now, not since Miss Lister left Halifax to stay with her York friends, and now doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to return home ever again. 

From that very first lesson in late September, Ann knew she had found her vocation. The very thing that would give meaning to her life. She loved teaching the Sunday school at the Lightcliffe church. The children in her charge were broad in age, from four to twelve years old, which made it tricky to find enough common interests and activities where most of the children could take part, but Ann discovered that she could rise to the challenge. 

She spent hours planning her lessons, keen to make them as informative and interesting as possible. She remembered being a child herself, taking classes with Elizabeth, John and Mary, who had passed away at only 15. Their governess hadn’t always taken as much care as she ought to have done, to ensure that her lessons were enthralling for all, choosing instead to focus on John’s interests. Revisiting only what John didn’t understand. Ann doesn’t want to fail any of the children she teaches. She wants to give them a gift that no one could ever take away from them – the gift of being able to not only read and write, but to fully understand what they were reading. As soon as she knew what the Gospel for that Sunday would be, she sought to tie her lesson in with the liturgy for the week. Musical pieces where the children could display their talents in music and hymn writing. Art works created to be hung on the vestry walls, and most importantly, reading and writing using the scriptures as their reference and guide.

Ann had quickly become a favourite with the children, but at times she feels entirely out of her depth in her understanding of their lives. Especially when the children talk of work the next morning, coal mining, farming, quarrying and the wire mill. Not just the little boys, either. One of the girls was still only nine years old, and yet she had helped bring three of the younger children in the class into the world, working as an assistant to her mother who loans her talents daily as a midwife across Hipperholme and Lightcliffe. Having birthed 17 live infants herself, there was no one in the area more qualified, and she was much called upon. Ann is amazed that this little child has not only seen so many births, but possesses the knowledge required to be useful. The more she gets to know them, the more in awe of these children she becomes. In spite of their lowly origins, they each have abilities and maturity that belies their age. And are all very serious in the pursuit of knowledge, with a burning desire to know how to read and write well enough not to be turned over by their landlords or their employers. Sunday is the only day off for most of the class, and so to think that they have decided to spend an hour or more with her is a huge privilege. 

Mrs Priestley joins her for the first three classes, but soon realises that Ann is a natural. Some of the children who she had found hardest to work with and reach were in the palm of Miss Walker’s hand within the first few minutes of meeting her. Mrs Priestley was very impressed, if a little taken aback. Who knew that shy Miss Walker had it in her? What other lights might she be hiding?

Mrs Priestley meets with Ann weekly at first, just to go over how things have been going, and to iron out any issues. This is the worst part of the role for Ann. Being alone with Mrs Priestley always puts her on edge. She is such a busy body, and yet seemingly great friends with Miss Lister. How this has come about, Ann struggles to imagine. As Advent approaches, Mrs Priestley wants to have a discussion about the Advent hymns that the children should be learning. 

Ann has found a new children’s hymn through her diligent research at Halifax library – Silent Night was termed a ‘carol’, and meant for the light and high voices of children. No-one in Halifax would have heard this song before, and Ann was convinced that the children singing it should be a feature of the evening service on Christmas Eve. Ann had taken along her sheet music for Mrs Priestley to play on the vestry piano, and introduced the older teacher to the new hymn. Ann was bristling with energy. She was throwing everything into her work. In fact, all the energy she had devoted to her pursuit of Miss Lister was easily transferred, now that Miss Lister was no longer in Halifax to pursue. 

At first, Ann had felt her absence keenly. In the weeks following Anne Lister’s departure, Ann cried at least once during the day, and most nights she spent with her silk bound sketch book in her bed, gazing at the images that she had created with her own hand and eye. As weeks became months Ann felt sad, but had begun to wonder if this wasn’t exactly what she needed. It gave her the chance to grow into her vocation without any distraction. She now needed the space to think clearly about what the Gospel for that week might mean to the children, and how she should structure a lesson around it. 

With Mrs Priestley playing Silent Night softly in the vestry, she chatted to Ann over what she could expect from each of the 48 regular children, and the ten or so stragglers whose attendance was hit and miss. She assured Ann that she was free to come up with her own take on the content of the classes, seeing how excited Ann was to be delivering her lessons to the children. Ann happily informed her that she had found a regular pattern in her work, and had a calendar on her desk at home with the Gospels for the year clearly marked, meaning the preparation no longer consumed her as fully. Mrs Priestley was impressed. Said that Ann’s energy and enthusiasm, her planning and keen eye for detail reminded her so much of Miss Lister, and that she missed her terribly. Ann was stunned at the admission. Stunned that Mrs Priestley felt able to be so candid in expressing her feelings for Miss Lister. But then had to remind herself that Mrs Priestley doesn’t quite see her the way Ann does. This makes Ann feel quite annoyed, for some reason. Her prickly response means that now, the music doesn't sound right to Ann, but as she doesn’t play, she doesn’t wish to try to correct Mrs Priestley. It’s because of her agitation that Ann doesn’t feel able to respond more fully than with a smile and a nod. 

'I had asked Miss Lister so often to come here with me, and help teach the young ones. But she has only ever been to join me in my classes a few times. Dropping in to discuss the history around the Bible, the deeper meanings behind the Gospels. Or simply to correct grammar and spelling’. Ann feels suddenly flustered. She had never thought that Miss Lister would ever attend something like a child’s Sunday school to share her vast knowledge on so many subjects. What if she decided to drop in on one of her lessons? What would it be like to work with Miss Lister?

‘What is she like?’ asks Ann, after a while where they were settled into a companionable silence, but for the piano, as Mrs Priestley attempts to get the tune and the rhythm of the new hymn perfect.

‘Who dear?’ Mrs Priestley is puzzled.

‘Miss Lister. What is she like?’

‘Well, Ann, you have met her many times! You know what she is like!’ says Mrs Priestley, smiling. 

‘I don’t really’ says Ann. ‘I’ve only ever met her a couple of times, and then she wasn’t there to speak with me’.

‘She is entirely unique’ replies Mrs Priestley. ‘And absolutely true to her own nature. She really is the most natural person I have ever known’

‘I have found her fascinating for many years’ gushes Ann, thrilled to have a fellow Anne Lister fan to discuss her with. 

‘Have you dear?’ asks Mrs Priestley, quietly. ‘Well, there is a thing! And now you will most likely get to work with her in the Sunday school, when she returns from York’  
Ann continues, attempting to adopt a conversational tone. 

‘Do you think she will want to help, if it’s me and not you who is teaching?’ Ann asks carefully.

‘It’s the teaching she attends for, not the teacher!’ states Mrs Priestley jovially.

‘Oh well, that would be wonderful’ smiles Ann. ‘I have thought for many years how I would like to make a friend of her’.

‘She really is the most enigmatic of friends. She lifts any social gathering you arrange, too. Lifting the conversation from the base to the lofty’. 

‘Well, in that case, I shall look forward to getting to know her better’ Ann replies sweetly. 

Mrs Priestley smiles and says ‘She truly is the very best friend you could ask for. Kind, honest and entirely dependable. People say such vile, such cruel things about her, and she just carries on. Doesn’t let it bother her one bit. Oh, to have her strength in this society! She is quite magnificent’.

From the weeks spent with the children, if there is one thing that would make her lessons easier, it would be to have a better range of text books. Ann has been wondering how she could finance the purchase of some key texts, in areas that would be useful to the children, like agriculture and engineering. She visits the library, where some of these texts are held. She is told that she would be able to take the book home, but that these books are not available for the children. Some of the texts cost more than a family’s weekly wage. If they were damaged, how could they be replaced? Ann ponders on this. How indeed could such books be purchased, so that the children would have the benefit of reading them?

Back at home, Ann spends an hour in the music room with Elizabeth, both trying to get the right tune, the correct tempo from the sheet music for Silent Night. It’s Elizabeth who finally cracks it – and Ann is thrilled! Asks Elizabeth to mark out the timing on the sheet. The music she purchased was rather thin on details, but she was just so pleased to have a new hymn to share, she didn’t care. Following their success, the sisters sit and talk by the window, as the sun sets and the candles are lit at tea time. She asks Elizabeth if she thinks that the landowners in Halifax would be prepared to offer a guinea a year, for her to build a library of text books for the children of Halifax to use, to further enhance their education. Elizabeth is amazed that Ann has formulated such a plan, had come up with such an idea all on her own. Yes, yes, Elizabeth felt certain that many would. Especially the women who ran estates. Surely their nurturing instincts would kick in, and they would want to support the children of the parish. Elizabeth smiles, asks if this is a coup to snare Miss Lister? No! It’s an idea that is purely for the benefit of the children. And of the landed gentry who chose to support it, as this would offer them the kudos of philanthropy.  
The maid knocks, and announces that Mr Edward Priestley is at the door, calling on Miss Elizabeth Walker. Elizabeth sighs, and looks at Ann. Would she be able to stay for a while? Play chaperone? Of course she will. Ann repeats to herself and herself alone, that she must not roll her eyes too much when Mr Priestley speaks. At least not when it’s obvious, as she had been caught before.

He strides into the room as if he owns it, and everything within it. Including Elizabeth. Such arrogance, with absolutely no reason for it. The man has achieved nothing in his life thus far, and doesn’t appear to be on track to make any great gains. But there we have it – the privilege of men, where they are allowed to be mediocre, and people will still give them their ear.

Elizabeth is tiring of him, and is struggling to engage in any sort of meaningful conversation. He turns his attentions to their young chaperone. Makes some silly comment about finding a suitor for Ann. Ann glares at him, but stays silent. He tries a different tack. Asks Ann what she has been doing at the Sunday school, and it is now that she decides to mention her plan for the books. Mr Priestley is initially surprised. He hadn’t thought much of the Walker girls, neither great beauties, and not especially bright. But perhaps the younger one had more to her than met the eye? He begins to tell her that whilst the idea is good, he worries that kudos is not enough to win the landowners over. Many of them simply are not interested in how they are seen by their tenants. Becoming philanthropists wouldn’t score high on their agenda. Ann feels a little deflated, as for all his flaws, what he is saying rings true. Her father has never shied away from making harsh decisions in business, and rarely consults even those who he has employed as managers and stewards. 

Ann tries another route – what does Mr Priestley think of Elizabeth’s idea of asking the lady land owners in the area to help? Mr Priestley laughs, and asks if she means Miss Lister? He says that she is a brave one to want to approach her. That rumour has it that she had fired most of the men working on her new road, back in September, and had thrown the ring leader off of her land by threatening him with a pistol she kept hidden under her skirts. That she has been known to whip workers and tenants who do not meet her expectations. Is Ann sure that such a woman has nurturing instincts? Has the potential to be motherly? Mr Priestley scoffs, and says lowly that from what he has heard in Halifax, Miss Lister is more likely to end up someone’s Father than their Mother. 

Ann is disgusted with him. What a thing to say in front of Ann and Elizabeth? She shoots a look at Elizabeth, who seems equally uncomfortable but entirely unable to say anything. Ann presses on. Yes, she would still like to ask Miss Lister. In fact, the very next time she attended Sunday school to teach there, she would ask her. She looks at Priestley as she says this, notices his surprise that Miss Lister taught Sunday school, if only occasionally. 

No, no Ann shouldn’t trouble herself to ask Miss Lister about this herself. Miss Lister is used to making deals with men. He will approach her with Ann’s idea. He would make sure to tell Miss Lister that it was her idea, yes, yes of course he would. After all, Miss Lister is still just a woman, just flesh and bone, and he is charming is he not? Elizabeth’s eyes widen with shock at the idea. Ann finds her eyes roll to the back of her head, but she is sure to keep her head down as she does this. Yes, of course. What a wonderful idea, Mr Priestley! Thank you so much! Whatever would they do without him? 

Hmm. What indeed? Priestley has his own ideas about what will pique the interest of her neighbours in business. He says that perhaps it is they who will get to choose the books? And that they should be able to choose books that they themselves wish to read first, and that after the children in Lightcliffe have read them, they should be auctioned off at a low price to those who had bought them in the first place. The cash raised will be there to buy other supplies. Now, what did she think of this newly embellished plan? How could Miss Lister resist it? Surely the library in Halifax cannot meet the needs of the towns own bas bleu? Ann has no idea. He may well be right, for all she knows. 

Alone again in her room, Ann’s mind has the time to wander to the vision of a certain tall, powerful figure clad in black silk with a high frilled collar; porcelain skin and dark, tightly curled hair. 

Ann day dreams about Miss Lister less and less she finds, but the dreams that burst open her nights never end. As explicit and as dangerous as ever, her mind allowing Miss Lister to undress her as she sleeps, kissing her softly, passionately, intensely. Anne’s hands all over Ann, and Ann’s hands all over Miss Lister. Grabbing her shoulders, her arms, her back. Stroking her face, her jaw, her neck. Legs entwining, arching their bodies into one another. Miss Lister moving within Ann gently but firmly, slowly but efficiently drawing climax after climax out of her as she thrashes around in her bed alone. The following mornings Ann always found herself wound up in her bed sheets, gasping, heated and sticky. She carried on sleeping without underwear, and the sheets continued to be changed almost every day. 

Christmas comes and goes, Mr Edward Priestley remains a fixture in their lives at Crow Nest, always on hand to escort Elizabeth wherever she wishes to go. Always visiting for tea with Father and Mother. But still he hasn’t seen Miss Lister. She is still in York, is she not? Mrs William Priestley, who is a firm friend of hers, has said that she will not be back before the New Year. Possibly well into the new year. Ann is quietly devastated. What entertainment does she find in York that she cannot find here? What are her friends like there that makes them so much better than anyone local to Shibden Hall? Ann wonders if Miss Lister has a lover in York. The thought brings tears immediately to her eyes. She looks at the floor, and lets them drop, unseen. 

Ann is making her way out to meet Mrs Priestley at the church, to go over some new lessons for January and February services. She finds herself riding up near Whitehall, when she sees a tall figure in black marching towards a group of workmen, voice raised. She stops instantly to see Miss Lister, speaking with her men at the end of the new road where it almost appears complete. She can hear laughter in the distance, meaning that her voice was raised in jest. Ann smiles. Miss Lister might scare Mr Edward Priestley, but she doesn’t scare her. She could ride straight over right now and ask her about the book project she has planned. But she doesn’t – she simply makes a mental note to tell Priestley that Miss Lister is back, and that she hopes he can win her around. Ann isn’t even sure why she can’t approach her herself, but just the thought of it makes her heart race so she can feel and hear the blood pumping in her ears. She can’t speak to her, and that’s all there is to it. 

When Priestley turns up again, after the weekend, Ann has Elizabeth ask him about Miss Lister, and if he knew that she was back. Priestley had clearly hoped this would all be forgotten about. But yes, he will walk along the new road a few times this week, just so that he can run into her.

When he does, he is useless. He returns to Crow Nest that evening, the bearer of bad news. He has seen Miss Lister. Yes, she is back. No, she wasn’t ever so charitable. Yes, she invited him to Shibden to speak in more detail, but as she had already said that she herself had no bother finding the works she wants at the Halifax library, that she really didn’t see the point in the project, he didn’t see the point in entering her residence with her. Ann is astonished. Surely Miss Lister would wish to be involved in the education of her workforce? Having better educated workers would surely mean that they were less likely to be feckless drunkards, the likes she has so recently struggled with. Surely, that guinea would be a small enough token to free herself of illiterate and useless men? Priestley says nothing. It’s pretty clear that he doesn’t have a mind that works as fast as Ann Walker’s does, and she knows that she cannot match Miss Lister, so in all likeliness, Priestley has delivered a garbled message with her name attached to it. What a damned idiot Miss Lister will think she is, having such a waste of skin as her envoy? Ann is furious. Yet she says nothing. She simply leaves the room, and makes her way to an early bed.


	12. Intoxicating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fantasy and reality converge. 
> 
> I know that none of us are actually at work right now, but seriously. This chapter is NSFW!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friday 26 January 1821[Halifax] At 11½, my aunt & I set off to walk to Cliff-hill & Crownest. I Sat about ½ hour at each place & got home at 2¼… Shook hands with Mrs W. Priestley but bowed formally to Miss Paley in consequence of her not having returned the call I made on her a year or 2 ago at Dr Paley’s & not thinking much of her manifold apologies sent by Mrs W. Priestley… but my relish for going to Halifax making calls is very much on the decline.

Ann feels emotionally drained. So much hard work, wasted because she had relied on a man. And not just any man, but one who was clearly terrified of Miss Lister. The idea of this made Ann feel butterflies flutter deep within her. A woman who men were frightened of. Something to aspire to, thinks Ann. She falls into her bed, pulling the covers over herself as she sinks into her pillows. Sleep takes her almost immediately.

Ann’s head is still woozy with sleep as she hears a knock on her bedroom door. Instantly, her maid is there, next to the bed. She informs Ann that Miss Lister is downstairs. She is waiting in the Music Room to see her. Ann, instantly flustered, leaps from her bed and begins throwing her night things off, and telling her maid to fetch her favourite pink dress with tiny embroidered flowers in the design. Ann has to be as pretty as is possible. Her book project depends upon it. Her maid helps her dress, then dresses her hair. Ann hands her a beaded comb to finish off the more elaborate than was usual style. Ann applies a rich lip stain, pinching her cheeks with her rouged fingers to deepen the flush to her face. She applies the heady rose scent that Catherine had bought her as a gift some time ago. Never worn until today. Ann knows she has to impress Miss Lister. If she fails to do so, her project cannot get off of the ground. Mr Edward Priestley was as useless as they come. And Elizabeth too drunk with love to assist. This is her idea, her project, and it is down to her to make it work.

She skips down the stairs, but once at the bottom of the stairs, she walks slower than usual to the Music Room door. Her nerves are kicking in. It suddenly occurs to Ann how strange it was that Miss Lister had asked only for her when she called. That neither mother nor Elizabeth would be present. She can't shake how peculiar that was. But she cannot pretend she wasn't thrilled about it. Her first tea alone with the sole object of her affections.

Ann pushes the door open, stepping inside the sunniest reception room in the house. Miss Lister is seated near the window. The sunshine pouring through behind her, illuminating Miss Lister, making it appear as though the light were radiating from within her. She stands as Ann enters, as all well bred gentleman do. But Miss Lister isn't a gentleman. She is far, far better than that, thinks Ann. She is majestic. Like Cleopatra. Ann smiles. That analogy makes Ann Marc Antony. She giggles at the thought as she walks across the room, raising her hand to meet Miss Lister's outstretched one. Taking her hand warmly in her own, holding it tightly as she walks right up to her. Too close to be appropriate.

"Good afternoon, Miss Lister!"

"Good Afternoon Miss Walker! I was just walking over to Hipperholme, and thought of all the times I had said I would call on you, and that I had never got around to it, and so here I am! I'm so pleased you were home and able to see me".

Miss Lister's eyes never leave Ann's as she speaks. Ann feels that this is already going too well. She turns to call for tea, and as she does so, she sees that there is already a tray of tea and cake on the table nearest her guest. She turns to smile at Miss Lister, and announces:

"Please, Miss Lister, sit down and allow me to pour you some tea. Do you take sugar?"

Ann bends to pour the drinks, and turns slightly to smile at her guest, whose eyes haven't left her. Miss Lister returns her smile as she replies "No, thank you".

She hands Miss Lister the cup and saucer she has prepared, pressing Miss Lister's silken hand underneath the warm saucer with hers. She allows the tips of her fingers to brush just inside Miss Lister's stiff white cuff, a tantalising brush of skin as fine as any satin, just for a moment before letting go. Their eyes locked on one another’s. Ann's heart begins to race. She has no idea where mother, or Elizabeth, are. She has no idea where the servants are. She just feels absolutely thrilled to have this glorious creation all to herself for the afternoon. Ann's eyes take all of Miss Lister in. Her height, her trim hips and waist, her broad shoulders, her strong arms that stretch the sleeves of her black velvet pelisse, the tendons that trail down behind her high collar, her jaw, her ear, the flush of her cheek, her shining, raven curls. She is truly the most beautiful girl in Halifax, and yet she doesn't seem to realise it. Perhaps because she doesn't really understand how incredibly attractive she is, it will mean that Ann Walker really will have a chance with her? Ann cannot take her eyes off of her. And oddly, it would appear that Miss Lister is similarly pleased to be at Crow Nest, alone with Ann too. Why? Ann doesn't know, and she frankly doesn't care. If Miss Lister is having a lapse in her usually excellent judgement, Ann is going to take full advantage of it.

"Please, sit Miss Lister! And I shall sit with you". And she does. Right next to Miss Lister on the sofa, in the window of the music room, with the afternoon sun beaming through the glass all around them.

They make small talk, they drink tea. The cake is largely left. Miss Lister doesn't partake in sugary foods. She is very conscious of her health. Of her figure. Ann comments that it shows, and she could swear that Anne Lister blushes. Ann settles ever closer, until she really could not get any closer to her guest. Not without one of them being on the others knee. Ann wouldn't mind that, even though she realises Miss Lister must weigh significantly more than she does. Part of Ann wonders how it would be to have her on her knee. How it would be to court Miss Lister, and mould her to Ann's wishes and desires. She recalls the dream she had, undressing Miss Lister. The memory makes her blush. She comments how they make a good pair. Miss Lister blushes again, looking down for a second before collecting herself, meeting Ann's eyes.

"Miss Walker, I have to say I had expected you to ask about my conversation with Mr Edward Priestley yesterday".

"Ah, Miss Lister! So your wanting to see me was purely business related?" Ann asks, quietly.

"No, not at all. And I have had a lovely afternoon with you. So, no. I just wanted to explain why the deal was not for me. The premise you have of not being able to secure the right books through the library, well this is something I haven't experienced. And I read extensively".

"Ah, now you see, this is where Mr Priestley has got himself muddled up. The idea is not as complicated as he has made it seem, and it isn't really about access to books at the library. It is about buying enough books for the children who attend the Sunday schools in Halifax. It's about buying more advanced books, of the sort that you or I are able to take home from the library, but that many children would only be allowed to read in the reference rooms, and many of them are simply too shy to ask. Or they work too long hours to be able to attend the library often. Do you know, Miss Lister, that some of the children I teach are your tenants? And some are even your employees? I have two, one 7 and one 9 years old, who work 6 days a week, 13 hours a day, in your stone quarries?"

"But most of them will be your tenants, of course. And most will work in your mill, on very similar if not identical terms" replies Miss Lister, slightly bristling at Miss Walker's inference that there was something wrong with how the Lister’s businesses were set up.

Ann feels all her good work so far this afternoon is going array.

"Miss Lister, I myself have no tenants. No mill".

"Neither do I, Miss Walker. But your family, your father, he does. As my uncle does. Does your father listen to your concerns regarding labourers and their rights? I sincerely doubt my uncle would wish to hear it".

Ann is stilled. She inches closer to Miss Lister, reaching out she grabs her hands in hers. She has to press on. Whilst Mr Lister might feel coolly towards the children in his employ, surely Miss Lister cannot feel the same? Holding Anne Lister's hands tightly in hers, she looks her straight in the eye.

"I had no idea of any of this when I first started teaching at Lightcliffe late last year. Working with these children, helping them make something more of themselves, is within my power. And yours too. Why shouldn't we change their lives? And just for pennies a year, we could build a comprehensive library to enable the children of Halifax to become educated and better able to find higher paid work".

"And who will do the jobs they hold today?" Enquires Miss Lister. Her tone incredulous.

"Whoever hasn't taken up the opportunity to progress. And they will be replaced by the next group who haven't taken the chance we would be offering. You know how important education is. Surely, it should be available to all who desire it?"

Miss Lister smiles kindly, then she laughs. She shakes Ann's hands as they continue to grip hers.

"Oh, Miss Walker! What a kind heart you have, my dear girl! How much is the subscription again? What are your plans for what you expect 'we' should be doing for these children"

"It's just a guinea per annum. And at the end of the year, the books can be passed along to another Sunday school, and we start all over again. If we can attract more ladies, or gentlemen, to subscribe, we could perhaps even begin to supply all of the Sunday schools every year. Meeting all the children's needs. Miss Lister, think on it. What a legacy we could build? We could do it together".

Miss Lister smiles, but her eyebrows inch upwards. What a curious girl Ann Walker is. But, what éclat could be bought in Halifax for a guinea a year? The notion of being seen as a philanthropist, an egalitarian, appeals to Miss Lister greatly. Ann sees the change in her, and realises that she must appeal to Miss Lister's vanity.

"There are such things as the National Schools" begins Miss Lister.

"And they are only available to the children who are already gifted academically. What about the late bloomers? Or the children whose gifts lie in the arts? In music, for instance? We could buy whatever books the children we have in front of us require. We could make all of those choices. Or perhaps you would prefer to make these decisions? You could assist with the selection of books in the sciences? In the Classics?"

Miss Lister likes the idea of being able to make the decisions about which books are purchased. If anyone knows about the best books available on medicine, anatomy, agriculture, on Greek and Latin, it's her. And it would take her hardly any time at all. All the teaching, all the planning behind the scenes is for Miss Walker to do. People she should not care about will perhaps think more kindly of her, as she stalks through Halifax, the townsfolks eyes boring into her back as she passes.

"I shall think on it" Miss Lister says, finally. "Give me a few days. Let me check my finances, see what I can afford. I perhaps do not yet have the funds you might imagine. But I shall be happy to assist you, in selecting the works to order, if you would like".

"That would be wonderful. Now, more tea?" Ann stands, and turns again. She sees that there is now a jug of water on the tray. The steam rising from it shows it is freshly boiled. Ann is confused. When did a servant come in and place it there? But now is not the time to question this. She picks up the jug, and pours it into the pot again. Swirls the teapot, and places it down to steep.

As she does so, she is aware that Miss Lister has also stood up, and is standing close behind her. As Ann turns, Miss Lister places one hand on Ann's cheek, the other on her waist. She leans in, and whispers:  
“I must say, you smell absolutely delightful, Miss Walker. Intoxicating.”  
Miss Lister kisses her lightly on the corner of her mouth. Ann turns slowly, to face her and leans her head in again to catch Miss Lister's lips, kissing her fully, passionately. Miss Lister's hand at her waist now claws the small of Ann's back. Ann's hands reach up, trailing her fingers up Miss Lister's arms, to her shoulders, feeling the strength beneath her palms, pushing her down, back into her seat on the sofa. Ann leans forward, closer, her lips clamped on Miss Lister's again. Rougher this time, Miss Lister lifts her hands up to grasp Ann's hips. The kiss is broken as Ann is pulled onto Miss Lister's lap, straddling her. Ann can feel herself becoming increasingly wet, as her legs are spread open, and around Miss Lister. The kissing starts again. Miss Lister presses Ann to open her mouth, her tongue sliding in, rubbing against Ann's own. The pace now more frantic, her hands in Miss Lister's hair, clawing up the back of her neck, groaning into her open mouth and drawing out a feral moan from Miss Lister. Miss Lister slides down the seat slightly, reclining back. Ann follows her, her hips rutting into her as they move. All the fabric laid between them helps create friction, rubbing Ann's core as she slides and ruts in Miss Lister's lap. Ann's body pressed tightly to Miss Lister's, her mouth on Miss Lister's neck, her jaw, her ear. Miss Lister's hands rub up her thighs, grasping at her bottom, pulling her legs wider apart, both of them attempting to muffle their cries in the others neck, mouth, hair, and both failing terribly.  
Ann feels Miss Lister's hands on the back of her thighs, under her dress, under her petticoats. Then she feels Miss Lister's palm, her long fingers, trailing along over the folds deep between her thighs. Ann's moans turn into a howl as Miss Lister enters her. Ann is frantic, meeting every thrust with a thrust of her own, her breathing erratic, her hands grasping at Miss Lister's collar, her chest, Miss Lister rocking back further, smiling at the frenzy she had created above her, as Ann realises she has lost all control. Her cries become more fervent. Her ability to think clouded. She feels her wetness gathering, herself spread open, her vagina widened by Miss Lister's fingers, her hand. Her walls are closing in on Miss Lister's fingers. Pressing them together. Her clit pulsating as she drags it over the fabric that separates her from her love.  
Because Ann does love Anne Lister. She loves Anne Lister in a way her mother cannot now love her father, and likely never did. She loves Anne Lister how Elizabeth believes she loves Captain Sutherland. But she doesn't, the connection between them isn't strong enough. Ann loves Anne Lister with a fervour, an intensity that few will ever know. She wants to join her in all that she does. She never wants them to be apart, not for a heartbeat. And she believes that such a love is possible. Is within her reach. Their reach. That they could achieve this. Building a legacy together. If their union cannot create children for Ann to dote on, and if there was ever anyone Ann would birth children for it is Miss Lister, their joined finances and intellectual interests can bring the local children to Ann for her to teach. An experience she is desperate to share with Miss Lister.

She rocks in her lap, the intensity now almost too great. Miss Lister begins to circle her clit, pressing firmly until Ann is crying out her name, biting into her neck, dragging her hands up and down Miss Lister's muscular back. She falls into her, gasping, clutching at the fabric all around her. Thankful that neither servant nor relative has walked in on them. Has she really been connected with Anne Lister, on the sofa in front of the window, in her family’s music room on a Friday afternoon? Miss Lister slowly licks the pulse in her neck, whispering in her ear that she had no idea Miss Walker would be so wet and willing, that she had no idea Miss Walker would be so responsive to her touch, and at such an early hour of the day too. It's then that she hears a loud knock on the door. She shoots off Miss Lister's lap, to quickly straighten her crumpled dress.

As she touches down her front, instead of her pretty embroidered dress, she feels the thin fabric of her chemise, damp with her exertions. She opens her eyes when the knocking grows louder, to see the pale pink of her pillow case in front of her face, her face half stuck to one of them. Laid on her front, her legs askew in the bed, her hand clamped between her sex and the mattress, wet with arousal. What a dream! How realistic? Ann is woozy as she climbs out from under the covers, and calls for her maid to enter. The young woman opens the door slowly, embarrassed. How much noise has Ann made? Too late now, best face it out.

"Yes?"

"Miss Walker, Miss Lister is waiting in the Music Room. Shall I tell her you will see her? Or shall I say you are sleeping?"

"Oh, of course I shall see her" replies Ann. "And then please get my pink gown with the tiny embroidered rose buds. And my beaded comb. Help me dress"

"Of course, Miss Walker" Ann froze. Miss Lister is downstairs? Visiting her mother, Elizabeth and herself? Is this really happening? Miss Lister is really in the Music Room? What is she here about? What is about to happen?

She jumped up off of the bed. She stood in front of the looking glass, and had a good look at herself. She needed to sort her hair out before she could go down to them. Really she should go downstairs immediately, stop Mother from wondering why she has taking so long. Stop her from thinking things.

Her hair needed refashioning, though. Half of it was already dropping down. Her maid was waiting for instructions, so Ann sat in front of her dressing table, and called to her over to brush her hair back into place. Picking the powder puff up, she patted over her face. She added blush and a stain on her lips too. Finally, she doused herself in the wild rose oil that Catherine had bought her back from her holiday. It's vivid, musky notes always reminded her of the sort of scent that ought to be worn by a far worldlier woman. It make her feel alluring. Mother will have something to say about that, she was certain. But Ann wants to look her best, not only for Miss Lister she tries to convince herself. But also just for herself.

Ann looks beautiful today. She is dressed in her best gown, with her hair braided in an elaborate style, her make up immaculate. She is doused in the rose perfume chosen by Catherine. She bounces down the stairs, and continues her quickened pace to the Music Room door. What is waiting for her behind the door? Why is Miss Lister here? What is about to happen? The anticipation is just unbearable. Ann flings the door open, the light streaming in through the window, as it had in her dream. Miss Lister, seated on the sofa in from of the window wearing her greatcoat, her stiff white collar and cuffs peek out from underneath the black waxed linen. She stands, as Ann enters. Ann smiles at her, her eyes fixed on her face, her flushed cheeks, her glossy dark curls. She moves confidently across the room, and shakes Miss Lister's hand firmly. The light behind Miss Lister truly appears to emanate from her. The woman’s beauty is beyond compare.

It's now that Ann is aware of the elder Miss Lister, seated beside her niece on the sofa. As Ann turns to shake her hand, she continues to turn to seek out a seat for herself. It won't be possible to sit next to Miss Lister today. But she just cannot be far away. She does need to speak with her about the library project.

As she takes more of the room in, she is surprised to find her mother and Elizabeth already seated nearest the door. So the visit is clearly not going to be anything like her dreams. The tea is bought in before Ann is seated, and so she begins to serve the drinks to their guests. The elder Miss Lister is served first. Then her love. Ann lightly brushes the delicate skin of her wrist as she passes the cup, an action Miss Lister cannot ignore. She then passes tea out to her mother and sister before perching on a chair right next to Miss Lister's side of the sofa.

Miss Lister has already been entertaining Elizabeth, and to a lesser extent, mother, with a tale of something going wrong with the new road. There is humour in her tale, but there is also an edge to the subject. Drunken workers. Miss Lister announces how she has had to fire some of the men early doors, and so she is now behind in her schedule.

"Why did you have to fire them?" Asks Ann, curious.

"Well, because they were endangering one another. Drunk whilst using dangerous tools, heavy with sharp edges, and at work? Whilst they're being paid by me? We cannot accept such behaviour, Miss Walker. It doesn't do to allow these people to carry on as they please. Not when both my time and my money are at stake". Miss Lister sits on the very edge of the sofa, her hands punctuating the air before her. Even when Ann profoundly disagrees with what she is saying, she is still mesmerised by Anne Lister whenever she speaks.

Ann realises that there may be little point in attempting to have Anne Lister pay for books for the children of such men, such families. As physically beautiful, and as gracious as Anne Lister is on the outside, and on the inside too, when speaking to others of her class, she doesn't come across as an egalitarian. Ann shall have to think of another angle. Or simply fund the books herself. She has looked into her finances, and she can afford to fund the scheme on her own from her own allowance she receives from her father. Perhaps it will be for the best? Perhaps it will be easier to get things moving without the interference of others? Ann would still prefer to have Anne Lister join her in the work. Perhaps she really would be happy to select the works? Perhaps being seen as a philanthropist really will speak to her ego? Ann wonders about that. About Miss Lister's ego. Ann realises that half of her attraction to Miss Lister is how arrogant she can be. How easily she controls the men around her. This level of arrogance increases her sex appeal no end. She intimidates people, and Ann finds that arousing and enthralling, in equal measure. Ann briefly feels ashamed to be so pathetic. But it isn't pathetic to be attracted to someone powerful, is it? And Miss Lister is powerful. From what she has learned from listening to Elizabeth and her friends, that is the one aspect of her sexuality that she shares with her peers.

As the conversation runs away from her, Ann isn't sure that is the day to ask about Miss Lister assisting her with the children's education. There is bound to be a better time.

The Lister's stay for 25 minutes. And Miss Lister doesn't mention Mr Edward Priestley, or his question asked on behalf of the Misses Walker just 24 hours earlier. Ann doesn't raise the question either. She simply sits in silence, watching Miss Lister talk, and enjoying just being in her presence. The most potent woman Ann has ever known. Her heart is full of admiration, and of lust, for this mercurial figure.

When their guests stand to leave, Ann reaches over to Miss Lister to take her hand in hers, and allows her finger tips to trace the line of Miss Lister's cuff, lightly stroking the fine skin hidden underneath. Their eyes meet. Anne Lister leans closer to her, and says quietly;

"I must say, you smell absolutely delightful, Miss Walker. Intoxicating."

She smiles, a smile that Ann has only previously seen in her dreams. Ann is convinced that their next meeting really ought to be just them alone. Now, how to orchestrate this?


	13. "She seems better suited to be made a beauty of"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monday 14 May [Halifax] Went straight by North Parade to Mrs Stansfield Rawson’s. Found them sitting down to tea… Talked away famously about one thing or other, society, etc, without reserve. I fancy they thought me amusing & agreeable. At least, they were as civil as possible. They asked me about my studies. Said how I had neglected them for several years &, in fact, had only begun to read regularly about 2 or 3 years ago, much the greater part of which time I had wasted in bad management by gaping after too many things at once e.g. mathematics before breakfast, French, Hebrew, Latin & Greek during the rest of the morning… Expressed my particular wish that all this should not be mentioned for that I should not like to have it known & should not have told it at all had not she, Mrs Rawson, asked me so particularly. I do not think Catherine will make much out as a scholar. She seems better suited to be made a beauty of. With good manners & fashionable accompaniments, she might have been much admired. These would have served her better, I think, than Latin & Greek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this one is taking a slightly alternative turn than previous chapters. There is method in my madness, and this remains very much Ann's story, told through her eyes. It's just that Catherine looms large in this too. 
> 
> Let me know you thoughts! The next chapter will be up shortly!

It was a sunny Monday afternoon that saw Miss Anne Lister call upon Mrs Stansfield Rawson, and her daughter Catherine. The two were already at tea in the drawing room, when their man servant knocked to announce her arrival. 

Catherine’s mother loved having Miss Lister to visit. She would tell everyone she knew that Miss Lister always attended her soirees, and frequently dropped in for tea. Mother enjoyed the éclat such a friendship afforded her in the stifling social scene that was Halifax. Catherine appreciated her visits, because she knew of no one else she could talk with about Greek and Latin, about foreign travel, about poetry. Her knowledge on such subjects was immense, and she always managed to create interest in her audience, no matter which subject she chose to debate. 

She entered the room as energetic as always, and mother and Catherine both stood to welcome her. Miss Lister shook hands with mother, and then with Catherine, her eyes meeting theirs as she did so. Catherine always felt a huge energy in her presence. She could lift a room, simply by walking into it, she thought. 

Mother had her settled at the table in seconds, cup of tea in hand. Miss Lister wasted no time in enquiring after their health, and the health of their numerous relations. In particular Catherine’s grandmother, to whom she was very close.  
After such pleasantries were over, mother was keen to tell Miss Lister about Catherine’s educational pursuits, holding her up as a bas bleu in the making. Miss Lister appeared to be thrilled to hear it, and asked her many questions. Which texts has she read, and what her opinions of them were, offering a few of her own.  
Mother went on to ask what subjects were presently absorbing Miss Lister. 

“Ah, I am afraid I have rather let things go, in that regard” replies Miss Lister, “I am ashamed to say it, but I haven’t really committed to any course of study in several years now. You know, it must have been what? Two or so years ago when I returned to reading anything at all! And even then just the occasional new work” Miss Lister looks askance. Catherine wondered: is that a blush? “But I would rather hope that we can keep this amongst ourselves? I would hate to ruin my excellent reputation as a lady of letters! I ought not to have even been as candid as I have, but for the fact I know that you will keep this in your confidence” 

She breaks the tension she herself created by laughing heartily, and leaning heavily to her side, closer to Catherine. She exhales as she does so.

“So! Your studies, dear girl? Tell me more about them? Have you been lured away from your Greek by Latin yet?”

“Oh, things are progressing quite well with my Latin, Miss Lister” replies Catherine. “Although, I find I still particularly favour the Greek”

“I am quite sure you do, Miss Rawson” replies Miss Lister, an octave lower than her usual speech. “I am quite sure you do” She cocks an eyebrow, and this elicits a blush from Catherine. 

Catherine is mortified. She has an idea that this exchange may have suddenly become a little risqué. Catherine knows all about Miss Lister. Her grandmother has drilled it in to her that she should treat Miss Lister as though she were a gentleman. In all ways, including never to be alone with her. Her grandmother adores Miss Lister. She truly does, more so than some of her own kin. She simply worries about the reputations of her numerous granddaughters, after Aunt Ellen had become besotted by her, when both Ellen and Miss Lister were in their youth. Aunt Emma too, but to a far lesser degree. It’s one of the reasons Catherine won’t let Ann know when she might visit next. Miss Lister would almost certainly eat her cousin alive. Furthermore, from what Ann has said, and from what she has not said, over the past few years, Ann would almost certainly let her. She has so little judgement at times, so naïve of the ways of the world. Unlike Miss Lister, who is currently sweeping her eyes over Catherine, as if she were a sculpture to be admired. 

“I really must say” Miss Lister begins, with a cocked head and a broad smile “Your dress is utterly sublime. The colour! The fabric! Truly, it becomes a piece of art when you wear it”

“Oh, well, thank you Miss Lister” Catherine looks Miss Lister right in the eye. She doesn’t blush this time, either. 

“My dear girl, you have such an array of lovely gowns, elaborate accessories, I cannot imagine what Latin and Greek could possibly do for you”

“Because women are not free if we are not educated, Miss Lister. Isn’t that right?”

“Freedom can come in many guises, Miss Rawson” Miss Lister settles back a little, no longer hovering quite so close to Catherine. “Sometimes, freedom can come through beauty. If you use it well. I am not beautiful, Miss Rawson. I need my intellect, my education, more than most women. You however, well, you could live on your looks alone. You must recall Elizabeth Montague? Wit in women is apt to have bad consequences; like a sword without a scabbard, it wounds the wearer and provokes assailants. Think on it. Who doesn’t want to look across the room on a cold winter’s night, to see a charming girl sitting across from them? Hmm?” 

She studies Catherine. Catherine knows that she is trying to gauge her reaction to such absurd stream of consciousness, nonsense and flattery. 

“I am not sure I have the face to warm a room” replies Catherine “and at any rate, I would sooner look across the room, and find someone who can challenge my intellect daily. Who can spur me on. Someone capable of inspiring me. A beautiful face wouldn’t mean much to me”

“Ah, but that is because you are a woman” Miss Lister nods lowly, in the manner of a gentleman, and smiles. 

Catherine is astonished. She indeed has learned her Greek, and knows enough of the ways of the world. Anne Lister’s perfumed words are more intoxicating than those of any man she has ever known. No wonder Ann is so pathetic over her. Catherine reminds herself that she isn’t as easily flattered. She smiles a little to herself. How charming Miss Lister is! And, perhaps she is right? No, Catherine reminds herself again. Although, should a young gentleman ever speak to her in such a manner, she would demand he marry her on the spot!

Miss Lister is now addressing the room, having moved on from flirting with Catherine, she now charms her mother. Asking about mother’s cushions and blinds. Such fabrics, such taste! Mother loves having Miss Lister visit them for tea. Mother has a sharp mind, and she finds many of the women in Halifax stupefying. But not Miss Lister. She also adores all the compliments. Father rarely has the time to notice how hard mother works to make their home both elegant and inviting. Catherine hopes that she will marry someone more appreciative, or else not marry at all. 

Miss Lister goes on to talk about the road she has been busy building across her land, towards the Old Bank and town. How she had calculated what the project would cost in money, but also what it would cost in specialist knowledge. How her engineering interests and her agricultural interests had found a common ground here. Mother is riveted, and has many questions. 

Catherine’s thoughts drift to her cousin. Could it be? No! Surely not! But in all seriousness, could it really be that Ann sees Miss Lister as a gentleman? Or as something in that vein? Catherine feels very uncomfortable with this thought. Ann needs protecting from herself sometimes, she thinks. She’s always so kind and trusting, too open and not nearly guarded enough. Her grandmother once said of Ann, that the veil of heaven had not been fully drawn on her, as it is on the rest of us when we are born. That Ann was truly innocent and pure of heart. Her grandmother never said that about her, or her other cousins. Perhaps Ann is as unique as Miss Lister?

Miss Lister leaves after an hour, and mother sits back, exhausted. 

“She really is the most marvellous company, isn’t she Catherine?” 

And Catherine can see that her mother is perhaps as enamoured with Miss Lister as her cousin is. She is grateful to have a firm head on her shoulders in such matters.


	14. Miss Lister's Companion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thursday 7 June 1821 [Halifax]  
> Till very near four, trying on different things to see what would do & be wanted for my going to Newcastle. I seem to have scarce anything fit to wear, have little or no money & altogether, I felt despairing & unhappy. Resolved to go out to the Saltmarshes’ & thus divert my thoughts. In the afternoon at 4¾, down the old bank to the Saltmarshes’. Both gone out in the gig. Thence to Wellhead – came away because they had a party. Had not got much beyond the new church when 1 of the children (Ann) called me back. Could do no other than return… Had a good dinner of sweetbreads, white & Italian cream, in the common sitting-room & Miss Rawson sat with me all the while, twenty minutes. It was she would have me sent for & she certainly seems very fond of me. Had one cup of coffee. Except the pale Miss Luthwaite, they looked rather a second-hand party. Mrs Stansfield appeared well but, on talking to her, on a par with the rest. However, I agreeablized, talked a little to all & was amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst!!!!

Catherine Rawson was seated on an upholstered garden chair, watching the children playing tag on the lawn at Well-Head. She was eating dried figs, nibbling on slices of cheese, drinking wine, and with the sun warming her face, she felt quite happy. Today has been a long one, what with preparing to attend the party at the Waterhouse’s, and the enforced jollity always at the forefront of all such family gatherings. She had just started to feel a little tired, as she hears the church bell toll five. She closes her eyes, focusing on the laughter and shrieks of the children, the birds singing in the trees all around her, and the strains of the piano being played in the music room. Haydn, she thinks. 

Her thoughts turned to Mrs Priestley’s call to her mother earlier in the week. Amongst the arrant nonsense she spouted, she was speaking of Miss Lister being certain now that the whole Shibden estate will be settled on her at her uncles death, and so she wanted to make it known that she intends on having a female companion join her there. She had the income to support her, and that Mrs Priestley already knew who the woman was, and would very much approve of her choice. Both Catherine and her mother had wondered at such a declaration. Miss Lister was certainly a singular figure, so they perhaps ought not to be surprised.

It was then that another sound broke her train of thought. The sound of gravel underfoot. She looks up. Marching up the driveway to the side of the lawn was Miss Anne Lister, wearing a greatcoat and bombazine skirt, both were black even though the temperature today had been high. She is committed to her style, thinks Catherine with a smile. It was almost as if Catherine had thought of her, and then she had appeared. She really was the most fascinating woman. No, that wasn’t quite right. She was the most fascinating person that Catherine had ever met. Having her present this evening would certainly improve the dinner for Catherine. Yet, moments later, and Miss Lister is retreating down the drive at quite a clip. Had she not known they were holding a party here this evening, and had simply called on the Waterhouse’s? That’s no good, thinks Catherine with a smile. She shall invite Miss Lister. Miss Lister can be her guest at dinner this evening. She calls little Ann over from the tag game she seems hesitant to join. Tells her she can have a penny if she can catch Miss Lister and bring her back to Catherine. Little Ann was off like a bullet. 

Catherine stands, smooths her gown and walks back into the drawing room through the garden doors. Her mother is sitting talking with Mrs Waterhouse, and Catherine joins them. She smiles sweetly at Mrs Waterhouse. She has just this moment spotted Miss Lister. Would she be able to invite her to the dinner this evening? Mrs Waterhouse has no objection. Says she will prepare an extra place next to Catherine. Catherine thanks her, and returns to the garden to wait for Little Ann to return. 

As she returned to her seat, Little Ann came bounding back up the drive, straight for Catherine. She was here to be paid, as Miss Lister was following close behind her. Catherine felt it money well spent, and the child sped off to join the others considerably richer than she had been. Miss Lister was smiling at her as she approached, and Catherine stood to greet her. 

“Did you really just send your little Ann to fetch me back?” Miss Lister was laughing, her head cocked in faux confusion.

“I did!” exclaimed Catherine, clapping her hand to her heart “How pleased I am to see she caught you!”

“Well, thank you. I do hope that I shall be as entertaining for you as you had hoped” Miss Lister moved closer, offering her arm to Catherine. She intends for them to walk around the gardens. 

“Oh, you don’t need to entertain me, Miss Lister” Catherine takes her arm, as they begin to move towards the stone steps “We shall simply talk over dinner as old friends. And” she whispered closer to Miss Lister, almost giggling “I am sure I will later be apologising for my family, and their friends, for their vulgarity”

“Nonsense!” exclaimed Miss Lister “Your mother is perfectly charming” and they both laughed.

Twenty minutes later, and Catherine is guiding Miss Lister to the path up to the music room door. This one is closer to the dining room, Catherine knows, and the family will be gathering around right now. The two of them will be the last to be seated. Catherine knows that people will wonder what she has been doing with Miss Lister, and the idea makes her laugh. The people here are just so old fashioned. The world is moving on without them, and their provincial minds, she thinks. But not Miss Lister, and not Miss Rawson either. People are bound to want to talk about them regardless, so let them. 

The dinner is delicious, and having Miss Lister to speak with all evening is delightful. Her wit and charisma hold the room, and Catherine feels herself quite enchanted. She suddenly sees what it must be that Ann sees in her, and wonders what that means. By the time the Italian cream is served, Catherine is leaning into Miss Lister, and when the coffee is served, Miss Lister is leaning into Catherine in return. 

For Catherine, Miss Lister has become the only person in the room. Having Miss Lister alone, tête-à-tête, Catherine feels consumed by her. She is struggling to stay level headed, under the onslaught of compliments and innuendo. Miss Lister asks her again about her Greek. Her hand on Catherine’s wrist, looking directly at her, as though she could see right through her, and could read her mind. Catherine thinks about translating one particular Greek work recommended by Miss Lister, to find tales of women riding one another like horses. She knows absolutely that what Grandmother says is true, and that Miss Lister is a performer of such acts. Catherine is fairly certain that she herself is not the same, but her head is addled. She simply cannot communicate beyond smiles and nods, as Miss Lister whispers in her ear.

Catherine takes Miss Lister’s hand from her wrist, and in turning Miss Lister’s hand in hers, Catherine sees the ink stains in between her fingers. 

“What’s this?” she asks

“Oh! That is merely ink. From my daily writing”

“Your daily writing? Miss Lister, what on earth do you find to write about every day?”

“Well, I keep a journal. So that is to be updated daily. The estate records. Letters. The usual”

“A journal?” this had piqued Catherine’s interest “will you write about being here tonight?”

“Oh. Most certainly” replies Miss Lister

“And what shall you say?” Catherine whispers “Will you mention me?”

“I shall say that I spent the evening in delightful company” replies Miss Lister, lowly. 

“I am glad that you find my company delightful” Catherine smiles “You really are perfectly charming”

Miss Lister doesn’t reply, as Catherine leans more closely against her. Miss Lister’s hand remains in hers. She can feel the heat from Miss Lister’s body through her black wool spencer. Catherine takes her other hand, and runs it along Miss Lister’s arm, lightly, from her elbow to her wrist. She feels strangely solid, yet delicate, at the same time. It surprises Catherine that Miss Lister feels just like other girls do. She wasn’t sure what she had expected really. Miss Lister pulls her hand back, using it to move Catherine’s ringlets to one side, to look more closely at her earring, but Catherine doesn’t know this and she blushes furiously. Miss Lister is utterly delighted, and smiles at Catherine. Catherine thinks she can read Miss Lister’s mind, as she looks directly into her eyes. Miss Lister thinks that she has won whatever game she has been playing. Catherine wonders if she is right. 

“Well, Miss Rawson, I do like these” and with that Miss Lister brushes the diamond drop of Catherine’s earring, and she shivers. But it is at that moment that Catherine also feels a chill deep inside of her. No, it would seem that Catherine isn’t like that. However, her companion for the evening remains the most charming creature she has ever known, and she knows she will always seek her company no matter what. Should Miss Lister have chosen her to be her particular companion up at Shibden, Catherine knows that she won’t say no. 

When it’s time for Miss Lister to leave, she turns to Catherine and invites her for dinner at Shibden in a weeks’ time. Catherine is ecstatic to accept. Miss Lister stands, kisses Catherine’s hand, and bows, in the formal manner of a gentleman. She speaks briefly to Catherine’s mother, and to a few of the other ladies who have congregated around the coffee pot, and then leaves. Catherine feels her absence immediately. What a whirlwind Miss Lister creates wherever she is. It is then that her thoughts turn to Ann. Not little Ann, but her cousin Ann. How should she tell her about what has clearly transpired this evening? She does hope Ann is happy for her. She adores Miss Lister, so will be thrilled to have endless invitations to Shibden, won’t she?

When Catherine Rawson arrives at Crow Nest, Ann is thrilled to see her. They sit outside a while, whilst Ann finishes a painting she had been working on of the kitchen garden. A curious subject, Catherine muses, but then her cousin is a curious girl. Catherine is just happy to see Ann so relaxed and happy. She hopes that her news will further lift her mood. 

“So, what is this huge secret you need to share so urgently, and still haven’t mentioned?” chides Ann, playfully. 

Suddenly, Catherine is less sure of herself. What if she has misread the signals from Miss Lister? No, she is fairly certain that was not the case. What if she has misread Ann, and Ann will be upset about all of this? No, that cannot be the case. She will be pleased for her. Catherine starts to speak, in a quiet and steady way:

“Well” says Catherine, pausing for another moment. Taking another breath. Something is telling her this is a bad idea, but she presses on, “you know how last Tuesday I went to the party at the Waterhouse’s at Well-Head? And that basically all of the Rawson’s were there, and I thought it would be dreadful?”

“Yes” says Ann smiling “I remember”

“Well, well, the thing is-“ She pauses and stumbles, not knowing how to go on.

“Miss Lister, she knocked to visit, and on seeing the get together and who were among it, turned on her heels and left. I was in the garden at the side, you see and I saw her come to the door, she just didn't see me. Well, as she was walking away I, and I don’t know why I did this! But, I grabbed hold of our little Ann, and asked if she would chase after Miss Lister and ask her to come back. That Waterhouse wanted her to join them. And, well, Ann did as I asked her. And Miss Lister came back, and stayed for an hour or so”

“And? Did you speak to her? What did you say?” asks Ann, clearly desperate to hear any news about Anne Lister. 

“Well, yes. Oh Ann! I did. And, well you know how fascinating she is. And you do understand why I wanted her to come back, don’t you? It was so dull there, I couldn't stand another moment! So when she came back, well I wanted her for myself”

At these words, Ann bristles.

“What?”

“For the party, for however long she was prepared to spend there” Catherine explains quickly. This isn’t going as well as she had hoped “I sat next to her, and she only spoke to me all evening. And she was so charming, well you know how she is. So attentive. And the compliments she gives”

Catherine smiles at the memory, as Ann scowls at her.

“You have heard” Catherine looks at Ann carefully, “that Miss Lister is to have Shibden Hall settled on her, when her uncle passes?”

Ann looks at her blankly. She didn't know this, and why would it be important?

“And that she has been going around stating her intention of finding a female companion to live with her there? That she will not even consider marriage to a man?”

Again, Ann has not heard any of these things. Apart from the marriage part. She had heard Miss Lister say that herself.

“Well, after the party, of how things were with us, how it seemed to go, well Ann. I think she might be considering asking me!” Catherine looks happy, but concerned about the glowering looks she has been receiving from Ann all the time she has been speaking.

“And how things seemed to go? What do you mean?”

“Only that she invited me to have dinner with her at Shibden next week”

Ann is breathless. Winded. 

“And why would you want to live with Miss Lister?” Ann inquires, her throat tightening as she speaks.

“Well, for the companionship. The company. Travel. She wants to travel through France and Italy, and see where she ends up. How exciting! And she would be able to keep me really quite well. With what I have to come too, which could be as much as a thousand a year. And her knowledge of her estate affairs puts many men to shame around here. Even Christopher is terrified of her, so she must know what she is about”

“Oh” replies Ann. “and what was it she said to you that has convinced you of all of this?”

“Just that she wanted someone lovely to look at from across the room in the evenings, and to share her life with. She once said, well inferred, that I was a beauty, and she has always enjoyed visiting myself and mother” 

Catherine can see that Ann is looking horrified at her 

“But don’t you see, Ann! This would be good for you too! You would be able to visit me at Shibden whenever you liked, so you would see so much more of her. Get to know her better, as I know you would like to”

“Of course” says Ann, sharply.

She feels as though she cannot breathe, her chest so constricted. Her head is pounding, creating a blinding headache from nowhere. She can feel the burn of a thousand tears threatening to explode out of her, but she doesn’t want Catherine to know how her news has affected her. No one can know. She must be happy for Catherine, or lose her too. Ann is bereft. 

Catherine is watching Ann closely. She can see that all is not well, and it makes her wonder again about Ann. Catherine finally, fully realises that Ann doesn’t simply want Miss Lister as a friend. Catherine knows that she really would not wish to perform any of the acts she had read about in her Greek. Her reaction has always been between bafflement and repulsion when reading such works. But such practices would not repulse Ann, she muses. She wonders what Ann really thought of the book of Greek poetry she had loaned her. And she feels quite sorrowful, that it should be her who Miss Lister wanted to spend her hour with, and not Ann, who would clearly be willing to offer her far more than mere companionship. She feels dreadfully torn, and utterly vile for making her cousin so sad. She goes to comfort Ann, but Ann knocks her hand away as she approaches. She was sorry, but she didn’t feel well all of a sudden. So sorry, but she was off to her room. And Ann left Catherine, sitting there, waiting for tea.

Ann raced through the house to the stairs, startling a maid on her way. She threw herself up the first flight, slower on the second. Elizabeth is just leaving her own room as she sees Ann propel herself down the hall to her room. Elizabeth follows her. 

“Ann, what's happened?” exclaims Elizabeth, as she enters her bedroom, finding Ann on the bed, shuddering with tears “Have you had a fall out with Catherine?”

“No, we haven't fallen out. It's nothing like that. It's just that she had some news, and she was so excited about it, but it's somehow thrown me. I can't quite explain it. I just feel so out of sorts. I'm trying to be happy for her, but I don't know, I don't know if I can be” Ann said between sobs.

“Why? What was the news?”

“Well, you know Mrs Priestley has been going around saying that Miss Lister is to have a female companion move in with her at Shibden? When she inherits it? And that she had already chosen her, and that Mrs Priestley would approve of her choice? Well, it's Catherine. And she's thrilled, Elizabeth”

“Well, I haven’t heard any of that before. And just why, exactly, is Catherine thrilled to be asked to live with Miss Lister?” asks Elizabeth suspiciously.

“Because then she won't have to worry about getting married. She isn't interested in children, and Miss Lister will have more than enough to keep herself and a companion, and to travel around France and Italy. Further still, Catherine thinks. She said that Miss Lister speaks of America and Russia too”

“And when did Miss Lister invite her to be her companion? How did that come about?”

“Well, it seems she hasn't quite. Not yet. But Catherine is certain it is her who Mrs Priestley meant”

“Why is she?”

“Because last night, she saw Miss Lister at the party, and they were tête-à-tête all evening, talking about all manner of things, very confidential. Catherine said she knew instantly that it was her that had been chosen. I want to be happy for her. I do, but oh Elizabeth I cannot! I do not have it in me to push my own feelings to one side”

“And what are your feelings, Ann? Can you name them?” asks Elizabeth cautiously.

Ann keeps her eyes down on the bed, but turns her head slightly away from Elizabeth. She cannot tell her. She thinks Elizabeth has guessed, but what if she is wrong, and Elizabeth is horrified?

“Ann?”

“As I have said, I just feel sort of thrown. I suppose it's that I shall miss Catherine so much, and with her plans to travel I won't see her so often anymore”

“Ann, that isn't it” states Elizabeth, firmly. Elizabeth knows that this is not about Catherine, this is about Miss Lister.

Ann tries to turn her head even further, whilst burying her face in the pillow. Elizabeth places a hand on Ann's face, and tries to encourage her to face her. Slowly, she does. Her face is tear streaked, with wisps of her unravelled curls stuck to her forehead, cheeks, nose and chin. Elizabeth moves the worst of them away, by brushing Ann's face lightly with her fingertips.

“Oh, Ann. I know what this feels like. But you still have time to rectify this. As long as Miss Lister hasn't actually asked her, then it isn't yet happening”

“But it is! Mrs Priestley-“

“Did Miss Lister actually name Catherine to Mrs Priestley?”

“Well, no but-“

“No, Ann” Elizabeth holds Ann's head in her hands “this is all in Catherine's head! She doesn't know how you, well, how you think? Does she?”

“Oh, no Elizabeth. I have mentioned my regard for Miss Lister to Catherine, but not really how-“ she trails off. She hasn’t told Elizabeth quite ‘how’ either. But it’s become very clear to her now. Elizabeth is thinking. 

“Ann, you have to speak to Miss Lister yourself. You need to catch her when she is out on her own, and speak with her. You need to make yourself as agreeable as possible, and make sure she is under no illusions about how you feel. I know you won't discuss that with me, and I am trying to understand how and why, but you must with her. Catherine doesn't feel the same as you do, does she?”

“No, well, I don't think so no. I don’t know” she starts to sob again.

“Ann, when I was being cajoled into meeting with Edward Priestley, I did so knowing that Captain Sutherland was the only one I wanted. That it was only he who it made sense for me to want. And I know that doesn't make sense to Mother, but it makes sense to me. I can't pretend to fully understand you, but I do understand wanting someone like that. You need to act. And it must be now”

“There's nothing I can do”

“Ann!” Elizabeth is holding Ann's hands, looking straight into her eyes as she speaks. “Yes there is! Ann! Do you want to have to visit Catherine at Shibden Hall? Hmm?”

“No!” Ann cries like a wounded animal

“Right, so listen to me, you have to catch Miss Lister when she is alone, and you need to make your feelings crystal clear”

“You always say I throw myself at her, though, when I shouldn't!” Ann cries.

“Well, not in front of mother and Aunt Ann. Or Mrs Priestley. Or the elder Miss Lister, no! You don't do these things in public. You need her alone”

“But how! She is never alone, and neither am I!”

“Go over to the edge of her estate, where the new road is. She walks out there every day, and then get her to walk you back here. Ann, you can't be so upset. You need to get yourself together, and be prepared to be absolutely honest”

“And when she turns me down, what do I do then?”

“If she turns you down. Why would she? She appears to be unattached. And I can imagine that what elderly Mrs Rawson says is absolutely true. She is as you feel yourself to be. Why would she have Catherine with her if she isn't the same?”

“She has invited Catherine to have dinner with her at Shibden one evening next week!” Ann splutters.

“Right, well that won’t be happening. I will make sure Catherine doesn’t go, alright? Trust me, Ann, I will deal with that”

“But what happens when Miss Lister makes it clear that she doesn't and cannot feel the same as I do? What then?” 

Elizabeth wraps her arms around her younger sister.

“If that happens, I shall be here! I will comfort you as much as I can. I will be here, Ann”


	15. Ann asks Miss Lister to take tea with her. Alone.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tuesday 12 June 1821(Halifax) 
> 
> In the afternoon at 5 ¼ walked along the new road past Pump when Miss Ann Walker of Crownest, overtook me having run herself almost out of breath. Walked with her as far the Lidget entrance to their own grounds and got home at 6 40/60 – Made myself as I fancied very agreeable and was particularly civil and attentive in my manner. I really think the girl is flattered by it and likes me she wished me to drink tea with them. I hoped for another walk to Giles House and the readiness she expressed shewed that my proposition was by no means unwelcome. She has certainly no aversion to my conversation and company. After parting I could not help smiling to myself and saying the flirting with this girl has done me good. It is heavy work to live without womens society and I would rather while away an hour with this girl who has nothing in the world to boast but good humor (sic) than not flirt at all if I had Mariana, should be very different. She has my heart and I should want no more than her. But now I am solitary and dull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ann Walker finds her courage, and chases Anne Lister when she spots her on the New Road.
> 
> I do hope I have done this entry justice. I have some fantastic GJ fan art from Katieholtz_17 to upload onto this one too. Thank you so much for that, and for your support of this fic. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Elizabeth Walker made herself busy all week with visits to her Rawson cousins and aunts. First, she went to take tea with Mrs Stansfield Rawson. She didn't ask for Catherine, but Catherine was there in the drawing room when she arrived. Elizabeth made sure she looked directly at Catherine when speaking to her, and noted with some satisfaction that Catherine could not meet her eye. 'She knows she is in the wrong' thought Elizabeth. And yet Mrs Stansfield Rawson seemed perfectly happy with the plans Catherine had for an evening at Shibden, almost eager for her to attend, thought Elizabeth with some annoyance.

However, Elizabeth wasn't deterred. She visited Mary Rawson, Cousin Christopher's wife, and told her all about Catherine's plans. Let her in on Catherine’s hopes of becoming Miss Lister's companion. Talked about Catherine’s evening invitation to Shibden. Mary was scandalised. Elizabeth knew she would tell Christopher as soon as he returned home. He would almost certainly have something to say about all of this.

Elizabeth considered visiting with Emma Saltmarsh, but decided against it. She was almost as keen on Miss Lister as Ann was. She wouldn't cause ructions for Catherine. But, Elizabeth knew who would.

Finally, she went over to Stoney Royd, to have breakfast with elderly Mrs Rawson, Catherine's grandmother. Mrs Rawson adored Miss Lister, but there would be no chance she would allow one of her granddaughters to go to live with her. Mrs Rawson was attentive, and curious about the tale. She agreed with Elizabeth that it was clearly a flight of fancy on Catherine's part. But something that needed to be nipped in the bud nonetheless. Mrs Rawson roared with laughter at the idea Catherine would be visiting Shibden in the evening. Ah!, no. Absolutely not. Catherine is far too young to visit gentlemen’s homes for dinner. Mrs Rawson is amused with her quip. Elizabeth was pleased. Her part of the plan had come together. It was up to Ann now. Elizabeth had tried to prepare her as best she could.

But what advice had Elizabeth to offer? Only what has worked for her herself, when flirting with gentlemen. Be as pretty and as agreeable as possible. Always be attentive. Always laugh when told a joke. Always smile. Never offer wild, alternative opinions. She ought to appear light-hearted and carefree. Never talk about yourself! Always show interest in what they’re telling you. Listen, and try not to talk too much. She knew Ann wasn’t really a talker, but when she did, she could ramble a little. She must rein that in. There was no one else who could be asked. Advice formed from Elizabeth’s meagre experiences of men would have to do.  
Ann took this advice on board, very seriously. But part of her wondered what a man would have been able to tell her, what advice her brother might have been able to impart had she been able to discuss this situation with him. She was out to woo a girl, after all. Miss Lister may wish to appear perfectly agreeable herself. No, Ann thought with a smile. That’s one of the best things about Miss Lister. She doesn’t feel the need to be pleasing, she doesn’t care about reining her opinions in. She has the most freedom of any woman Ann has ever known, and she exercises it daily. Perfectly herself at all times, and encouraged to be so by her aunt. She has status, education, worldliness, money, and will soon enough own one of the largest estates in the Ridings. Miss Lister behaves as though she is equal to any man, so she doesn’t have to engage in the pantomime Elizabeth has laid out for Ann to follow, other than as the recipient of such attentions. Ann understands why Catherine had wanted to experience a little of the freedom living and travelling with Miss Lister might afford. She cannot regret having Elizabeth tell Catherine’s grandmother all about her plans, however. That was a good idea. She will visit Catherine herself again soon. She can never tell her why she was so upset, but she hopes they will still be close after this. Elizabeth had said that this could happen, friends from childhood pulled apart as they get older, if both are interested in the same man. But Catherine isn’t interested in Miss Lister in that way, Ann is almost sure of that, so they ought to be amicable once again soon.  
And yet, for all the work others have done to help her, Ann fears she will end up saying or doing the wrong thing, and any dream she has thought of will soon be dust. 

Ann rose each morning, ate breakfast, and then dressed as elaborately as was possible, without arousing suspicion from Mother. She had her maid dress her hair each day, and chose from her prettiest dresses. She applied powder and rouge, and doused herself in perfume. She wore some of her nicer pieces of jewellery. She had to show herself off to her best advantage. She was also busy in the evenings, brushing up on her Byron and Sappho. She would make a good impression as soon as she caught up with Miss Lister, even if it killed her.

Before lunch, she would be out of the house, and heading towards the edge of the Shibden estate. And every day, carrying a book, and a bag of fruits, bread and cheese and wine, she waited. Every day she sat on the hill as it rises close to the new road, and she ate her lunch alone, reading Byron, or sometimes a penny dreadful. And every day, Miss Lister failed to appear. ‘Where did Elizabeth get her information from?’ wondered Ann on the fifth day of waiting. Probably from Catherine, she smiled. Catherine had visited her this morning, just before she was due to leave for her walk. She had arrived with Miss Crackenthorpe. Ann was not a fan of hers. Wished Catherine had come alone, but she was warmed to hear what Catherine had had to say. She had just come back from calling at Shibden Hall. She had spoken with Miss Lister, and she would no longer be going over there for dinner with The Lister’s on Thursday night. Ann noted that she was now claiming the meal was to have been taken with Miss Lister’s family. For Miss Crackenthorpe’s benefit, no doubt. Ann notes how Catherine covers her tracks. She must also learn similar diversionary tactics. Well, as soon as she has done something to divert the attention of others from. 

She had left for her lookout point in high spirits, but by 5pm, Ann had barely touched her lunch, had almost forgotten to read the book in her hand, and had become so despondent she didn’t think that she wanted to return the day after. It had seemed such a good idea, waiting to ambush Miss Lister, to ensure they could speak alone. But the flaw in this design lay in Ann having no idea where Miss Lister was. Ann wishes she could just stroll up to the door of Shibden Hall, knock, and ask to see her, as Catherine does. But she really can’t. Their families have so little to do with one another, it wouldn’t be appropriate. Ann smiles to herself, and sighs. 

As Ann stood to collect her things, she spots a movement on the bend. Alert, she fixes her sight on the figure in black, moving at a tremendous pace on the New Road, heading down towards Halifax. Miss Lister, moving with purpose along her new road, acknowledging a man sitting on the road side, before striding off again. Ann can’t get herself together fast enough. She had given up for the day, become lethargic and low, and now she has to run. Miss Lister was almost out of sight when she reached the path, by the time she was on the road she had vanished altogether. But Ann knew that there were no turn offs now, not until Pump. Ann had never been athletic, never done much exercise, but she was amazed at how fast she could run when she really had to. She flew up the road, finally seeing Miss Lister on the horizon, trying to call out to her, but finding her lungs were burning and her voice had become hoarse. Nothing for it, she continued to run after her at a ridiculous pace, her hair flying loose from its braids, ribbons sliding undone, flowers falling out. Her brow prickling with sweat. Not the scrubbed, perfumed, perfect princess who had left the house earlier, now Ann looked wild, as though she belonged to the moors. Finally, with her hair almost down, her back wet under her layers with sweat, her powder and rouge gone, she is feet behind Miss Lister, who is still oblivious to her approach. She reaches out, and grabs Miss Lister’s left hand with her right, and tries to steady herself to a stop, pulling Miss Lister a little along with her. She starts laughing, and is grateful that Miss Lister laughs also, as she drags her along, Miss Lister takes her other hand too, and slows her to a stroll. Ann pulls ahead of her, their hands still linked and smiles:

“Miss Lister! I spotted you up at the bend, and thought I would never catch you!”

“Miss Walker! What a complete surprise! I wondered what had caught hold of me!”

“Oh! Yes, I am sorry! Dragging you about like this” and when Ann laughs, Miss Lister laughs also. 

Miss Lister looks beautiful. She is wearing a smart gabardine riding habit, as ever in black, with a white frilled collar and stock. White cuffs peek out from her sleeves. Her dark ringlets shine where the late afternoon sun catches them. Everything about her takes Ann’s breath away.

“I had hoped I would see you” Ann starts. She has no idea where she will finish.

“Oh?”

“Yes. I had wanted to see you, as I wanted you to visit me, for tea. And a walk, with me. At my house”

“Well, how could I refuse now?” Miss Lister smiles kindly at Ann, and butterflies fill Ann’s rib cage. 

“Where were you headed?”

“Where was I headed? I am headed into Halifax”

“Is it an urgent trip?” 

“Well, no. No it isn’t, why? Do you have a better idea for my time?”

“Yes! Let’s go for a walk! I bought a lunch out with me, I got distracted, didn’t eat it. It’s fruit, some cheese. We could share it?”

“Well, how could I resist?”

“I am too pleased to hear you cannot” Ann feels brave. Still with Miss Lister’s hands in hers, she moves a little closer towards her. “I find you such pleasant company, I can’t think of another being I would sooner spend an hour with”

Miss Lister cocks her head, and smirks.

"Well, in that case we should embark immediately” she raises Ann’s right hand to her lips, kissing the back of it. Ann is enraptured by this. Miss Lister holds her gaze “We could take a walk around? Perhaps through the wood, over the fields, and drop back down to Crow Nest?”

“Yes! Let's do that. I don’t want to go straight back home”

“No?”

“No, I would far rather spend the rest of my day with you”

“Would you? Well, I do hope I'm entertaining enough for you” 

“You don’t need to entertain me, Miss Lister. I'm happy just being with you”

“Are you really? Then you are easily pleased, my dear! You can certainly have that”

Miss Lister squeezes Ann’s hand, Then reaches into her pocket, checks her pocket watch, smiles and holds her hand out to take Ann’s bag. It’s then that she offers her arm. Ann is thrilled. She has watched Miss Lister walk with other girls arm in arm, and now she has the chance to spend time with Miss Lister just as they had. This is going better than Ann had ever imagined it would.

“My family have invited you for tea so many times, but you have never taken us up on it. Why?” Ann has never been so bold.

“Well, I don't know really” She has caught Miss Lister off guard. “I'm not often here, and when I am, I'm generally too busy working to take much time out visiting. My life is rather different to that of your cousins, Miss Walker”

“I can understand why you go to York so often. It must be amazing to be able to pick and choose what to do in the evenings, rather than having little or nothing to do here in Halifax”

“And that is why I find myself engrossed in the estate when I am here. The lectures and recitals that take place in Halifax are nothing compared to the concerts, the seasons of lectures, the festivals of the arts, I can attend in York. And soon further still, I hope”

“Further still?”

“Well, my aunt and I have travelled to Paris many times. I have some contacts there now I can use as a base, as I intend on travelling even further afield”

“You do? Where to?”

“Italy. America. Russia! I would love to visit Russia!” and suddenly, Miss Lister is on fire. “What an exciting country, stretched across two continents. The Imperial Public Library in Saint Petersburg has only been open since 1814, and already there is talk of a second being built to accommodate the sheer number of books and papers they have managed to collect in such a short time”  
Miss Lister adores books almost as much as travel, and cannot think of anything more pleasurable than a tour which included several visits to such a vast library.  
“That sounds fascinating” Ann responds, genuinely. How does Miss Lister know about such things? Not from wasting time on Penny Dreadful rags, thinks Ann.

They begin their walk back along the New Road, with Miss Lister explaining why she had wanted the road building, and what a difference such a modern road will make to Halifax as it becomes an industrial centre. Miss Lister tells Ann about how it has been constructed, the materials used, and why. How improving the towns’ infrastructure is a responsibility of landowners, and the road will become part of her legacy. Ann knows nothing of what Miss Lister is talking about, but she listens intently to every word she says. Having Miss Lister so close is intoxicating. Ann can't resist touching her, stroking up her arm, from her elbow to her shoulder with her free hand. Her arm feels very strong, solid. Miss Lister draws her closer as she does this, and now Ann has her so close, she is afraid she will faint. Miss Lister smells of rosemary and leather, Ann’s head fills with the scent, as she leans into her. Ann thinks how she has never been this close to anyone who wasn’t a relative, and how excited it makes her feel. 

Miss Lister moves Ann’s bag to the crook of her arm, places her right hand on Ann’s ceasing its travel over her bicep. Ann looks down, surprised to see a black stain along her fingers.

Ann turns Miss Lister’s hand over in hers. 

“What’s this?” she asks.

“Ah, ink stains! From my daily writing. They’re a devil to remove, I am afraid” Says Miss Lister, allowing Ann to look more closely.

“And what do you write about every day?”

“Estate business. Who I have visited, who has visited me. Who has chased me down the road that afternoon, to ask me to tea” Miss Lister flashes a luminous smile at Ann.

“So you will write about me? Doing that?” Ann looked grave. Her confidence dropping by the second. What must Miss Lister think of her? Of her outlandish behaviour. Now, and previously. Always touching her, standing or sitting too closely, and this! The most mortifying thing Ann has ever done. 

“Yes” Miss Lister replies, slowing them down to a stop as she comes to stand in front of Ann, looking down at her, lifting Ann’s chin to encourage her to meet her eyes “and do you know what I shall write?”

“No” Ann says, nervously.

“I shall say that I spent an hour or more of my walk in the most delightful company. With a lovely girl to pass the time with” And with that, Miss Lister smiles down at Ann, moves her hand from under Ann’s chin, and bops her knuckle on her nose in a jovial fashion.

“Oh” says Ann. Unsure if Miss Lister’s kind words and gestures have made her feel more relaxed, or even more excitable. Miss Lister is so close. Ann feels her chest getting tighter, her mouth dry. 

“Do you keep a diary?”

“Well, yes. But I do not think my diary has the power or interest that yours does”

“Oh, come now Miss Walker! You mustn't put yourself down so! All experiences should be recorded”

“Oh no! I didn't mean it like that. It's just that my diary isn't as important to me as yours is to you. I have another outlet” She pauses, should she say anything? “I draw. And paint. And I keep files and sketch books of my work, each image is a record of a sight I have seen, a feeling I have felt, or somehow, a mixture of the two”

“And who adorns those esteemed pages, Miss Walker?”

Ann looks at Miss Lister is silence, moments later realising she has been silent for too long. She says slowly.

“Ah, Miss Lister, I really cannot say. No one sees those drawings. And you are the only other to know of their existence. They're for my eyes alone”

“I take it that they're of the object of your desire, Miss Walker” She says conspiratorially.

“Oh, Miss Lister! How are you always so right!” A waspish grin plastered on her face.

Miss Lister laughs, and Ann sees another sketch of her in her mind’s eye. Hair pulling out in thin tangles, whipping across her forehead as they walk. Her head tilted back, in profile. Velvet mouth wide, mid laugh. Her eyes twinkling, bright with mirth.

“I hope that the young man responds in a similarly romantic manner” Miss Lister says, laughing.

“Oh, they’re not of a man”

“Ah, well, whatever it is that your heart desires, I hope it eventually comes into your possession”

“So do I”, replies Ann. Her eyes boring into Anne Lister, attempting to get her to see things more clearly without being more explicit.

Ann is starting to doubt that the tales and rumours that her sister and cousin have told her over the years are true to any degree. Miss Lister doesn't seem inordinately interested in other women. She's simply far better educated, far more physically capable, and expects more from a conversation. Coupled with her unique style and penchant for black, these things have driven a wedge between Miss Lister and other women in Halifax. She is like a gentleman in manners alone, not in desires. Ann suddenly worries what people might say about her? If they think these things about Miss Lister without evidence or proof, what will they say about her if anyone was to find her sketches? Or even were to see how she looks at Miss Lister. The gossip from the mouths of the likes of Mrs William Priestley would be too much. No one can ever find her drawings of Anne Lister, Ann realises. If anyone did, it would be immediately clear what Ann was about. 

They turn off the road, and into the woods. Miss Lister owns this land, grew up on it, and knows it intimately. Ann less so, but she is familiar with the bridal path that runs through. Miss Lister doesn’t keep to the paths, however. Ann barely notices, until the earth beneath her feet becomes marshy. Her attention is entirely with Miss Lister, and what she has to say. She tells Ann a story about coming out here in the school holidays to shoot pennies and bottles with her friend Tib. Ann remembers seeing Miss Lister doing just that many years ago, and wonders if that was Tib. Says that she used to drink with a group of young men that she knew down here in the summer when she was about Ann’s age. Ann is stunned. She simply cannot imagine going into the woods at night with men and drinking with them. Miss Lister’s life is so removed from Ann’s she finds her stories utterly fascinating. Like a portal to another world, where anything seems possible. She asks Miss Lister if she wasn’t afraid of the men. She looks surprised to be asked such a question, but takes her time to think about it. 

“No, I wasn’t afraid of them. They were my friends. I really didn’t know any other women who lived in Halifax. No one I really had anything in common with. It was a while before I was introduced to Ellen and Emma Rawson, and we remain the very best of friends to this day. Your cousins, I believe, Miss Walker?”

“Yes, Miss Lister. We try to see them as often as we can. Especially now Ellen lives away”

“Ah yes, but she is so often here, it’s like she never went!” says Miss Lister, laughing. And Ann laughs too. 

They walk under the trees in silence for a moment, Ann taking her surroundings in, enjoying having Anne Lister so close to her.

“Well, I find myself inexplicably attracted to Shibden” Ann says, smiling at Miss Lister.

“Well, there we have it. The mystery as to why Miss Walker spends so much time out riding or walking alone. Smiles Miss Lister. The flora and fauna of my estate!”

“It is lovely, Miss Lister. You are lucky”

“As are you, with your landscaped gardens, Miss Walker”

“Ah, but Crow Nest is not my own”

“And Shibden is my uncles. Not mine”

“Not yet, but it will be. Won't it?”

“Who do you know who leaves an estate this size to a woman, Miss Walker?”

“Your uncle hasn't settled on you? I understood he had?”

Miss Lister stops. The conversation has taken an odd turn. Why is Miss Walker so interested in who will inherit the estate?

“Are you looking for a suitor, Miss Walker?”

“What? Oh! I'm so sorry. I get so clumsy sometimes, and say the most-“ Ann trails off

“I'm joking! Good heavens!” Miss Lister laughs, but with her head cocked towards Ann, quizzical. Ann stops talking. Her mouth is running away with her, and she is in danger of making a fool of herself. 

Miss Lister begins to tell Ann about forestry, and how she plans on managing the trees in Cunnery Woods, when they came upon the first stumbling block. The levels of the land were changing, and there was a sheer drop to the path below. Ann panicked. She didn’t want to look pathetic in front of Miss Lister, but she wasn’t dressed for such feats of acrobatics. As they approached the edge, it looked for all the world to Ann that Miss Lister was about to simply jump. 

“Miss Lister! No! Ah, I am not sure I can get down there. Is there another path?”

“Ah, I am so sorry! It’s the quickest route through the woods, and I wasn’t thinking. Now, if I go down first, you sit on the edge and push off, and I can catch you”

“Oh, I’m not sure about that. Catch me? Really? What if you miss?”

“My dear Miss Walker, I can’t miss. The drop isn’t so steep. I will put my hands on your waist, if you like, to steady your decent”

Ann’s breath catches in her throat. Miss Lister’s hands on her waist? Dear Lord! She isn’t sure how she can do that without Ann doing something ridiculous like hug her, worse kiss her. Miss Lister can see that she isn’t sure. Ann is pleased that she can’t read her mind. 

“If you can’t come down with me holding onto you, then I will come back up, alright?”

And with than, Miss Lister jumps down to the path below. Ann watches her, and then starts to scrabble down in her best blue dress to the edge. The skirt will be sure to be dirty now, she thinks. Why can’t she just jump like Anne Lister can? 

Once on the edge, her eyes find Miss Lister’s. She is beaming up at her, waiting for Ann to decide to move. Ann freezes. Miss Lister sees her nerves, and comes up to her. Her hand finds Ann’s ankle, and she holds it for a moment. Ann’s heart stops. The touch makes her feel hot, breathless. Miss Lister looks up at her, and Ann knows that Elizabeth and Catherine’s grandmother are absolutely right about Miss Lister. Her hand on Ann’s ankle has confirmed that. Ann smiles back. 

“Are you going to help me down?”

“Of course” Miss Lister puts the bag down, and stands right in front of Ann. She reaches up, and with her hands firm around Ann’s waist, Ann let’s herself drop. 

Ann’s body slides down the front of Miss Lister’s, as she lands on her toes on the path. The effect on Ann is immediate. She feels as though an inferno is raging through her, and she has no idea how she can control it. She knows that she has turned bright red, and cannot meet Miss Lister’s eye, as she stands with her hands on Ann’s waist, not an inch between them. Almost as soon she was there, she was off, bending down to collect the bag, offering Ann her arm once again. Ann takes it, and they make their way to the fields. 

“I was a little concerned there, Miss Walker. I am sorry that you had to jump, and dirty your pretty dress”

“Well, you were very gallant, I am sorry for making a fuss”

“Both of us so apologetic. What are we going to do?”

“I'm sure you are full of ideas” Miss Lister pauses, studies Ann’s face. Is that innuendo? 

“I’m not sure how to take that” She smirks at Ann.

“Oh! Is that the kind of statement that has two meanings? I didn’t know!” 

“I believe you, Miss Walker. Thousands wouldn’t, but I believe you!” She laughs.

“Miss Lister!” Ann is bristling with faux outrage. She snatches her hand back from Miss Lister’s arm, and whacks her in the side lightly with the back of it.

“Ow! You have some punch, my dear lady! I shall have to be careful in how I approach you!”

“Yes, you should. You needed reminding that you are with a lady now, and not with your drinking boys in the woods!” 

Ann laughs, and Miss Lister laughs too. This is so easy, Ann thinks. What was she so worried about. Miss Lister is adorable, and funny, and kind. If I could spend time with her every day, Ann thinks, I would never want anything else. She had every opportunity to make Ann feel awful about being afraid to jump, but she didn’t. She simply helped her. How many people does Ann know who would do the same?

Miss Lister has started to sprint off without her, striding across the field. Ann is trailing behind, and calls out to her, breathless from her exertions. 

“Slow down, Miss Lister! You're going too fast!”

“Ah, Miss Walker. You are not the first girl to say that!” she laughs.

“Is that? Is that another of those things with two meanings? One of them filthy?” Ann has caught up again, and takes Miss Lister’s arm once again, quickly nestling into her as she was before. 

“Innuendo. Not quite filth, Miss Walker, but close” She winks “Is that the sort of conversation you are seeking?”

“Oh no. No. Of course not” Ann feigns shock again.

“Well, should you change your mind, do let me know!” Miss Lister whispers in her ear. She looks around. “Do you want to settle here? To eat?”

“Oh, I wondered if you might like to go to Glen House? We could see the orchid house, the orangery, and then eat in the parkland there?”

“That sounds wonderful, my dear. Why not?”

“We can sit and be. Just us”

“Indeed we can, lead the way Miss Walker!!

Ann runs her hand up Miss Lister's arm, and leans so closely into her that there is no space between them at all. 

They were quiet for some time, before Ann couldn’t resist asking Miss Lister about other women she had seen her walking with. Miss Browne, in particular. 

“I often used to see you walking out here with Miss Browne”

“Did you?” Ann looks at Miss Lister to gauge her reaction. Hmm. She would make a good card player, she thinks. 

“Yes. Do you still see her now she is Mrs Kelly?”

“Yes, I do. From time to time. When she is here”

“You seemed to be very good friends”

“Hmm. Yes, I suppose we are. A shared love of the arts. And of the lectures given at the library”

“Oh” That isn’t the response Ann had expected. What had she expected? “Do you mean fine art?”

“Poetry, Miss Walker. The written word, used to perfection”

“I have bought a book of poetry with me today, on my walk” Ann says. “Do you like Lord Byron, Miss Lister”

“I very much do. I am almost surprised that you do, Miss Walker. Being such a lady”

Ann is quiet again, they’re almost at Giles House now. 

“You can be a lady, whilst having a romantic soul. I find you very romantic, and you are a lady”

“Hmm. Many would say that was open for debate!”

Walking through the gates, it’s clear that the greenhouses are closed for the evening. It is getting late, almost 6pm. Ann and Miss Lister walk around the glass, peering in. The panes are dirty on both sides of the glass at eye level. 

“We should come back another time, meet up earlier in the day and come straight here. I hear the orchids are really quite spectacular” says Miss Lister. Ann’s heart jumps from her chest.

“Oh yes! I would love to come here with you again! Nothing would make me happier!” Enthuses Ann.

“Quite. We shall have to make arrangements”

Ann waits for her to suggest a date. She doesn’t. Ann wonders if Miss Lister will write to her. Or if she will mention coming back here when she visits Ann for tea. 

Ann catches Miss Lister’s hand as she spins around on her heel, at the end of the greenhouse. She squeezes it and smiles brightly, Miss Lister returns her smile.

“What I said earlier. I do find you incredibly romantic, Miss Lister” Ann starts.

“Do you?” Miss Lister replies, moving towards her, Ann’s other hand running up her arm to greet her as she gets closer. 

“I do” Miss Lister is very close now. Ann doesn’t know what to say, so- “I think we should find somewhere to sit, and eat these fruits I have had you carrying about for me”

“Let’s go and sit over by the trees” The two walk arm in arm across the parkland, and find a large, lush green tree to settle under. 

Ann produces a little cloth, and places the cheese, the wine bottle and cup, several oranges and a pile of grapes on top of it. Miss Lister comes to sit close by her, watching as she arranges the little feast. She takes off her hat, and lays it on the grass to the side. Ann does the same. Ann produces her volume of Byron. She passes it to Miss Lister, and asks her to read from it. She begins her reading, and leans on the grass, on one elbow, close to Ann. Ann leans in towards her. The cadence of her voice, reading Lord Byron’s words transports Ann to another realm. She really doesn’t know if she has ever been happier. 

Ann pours the wine into the single cup. “We shall have to share” she says. Miss Lister nods. Ann passes it to Miss Lister first, and then she drinks when the cup is returned. Ann’s eyes on Miss Lister’s lips as she swallows. Ann has no idea if this is how Elizabeth feels about Sutherland, but she cannot imagine that it is. Her feelings for Miss Lister transcend the base, the carnal. It’s much more than that. Just being near her is enough. 

They eat the cheese, and drink the wine, Miss Lister reading on, telling Ann which lines, which verses were her favourites, and Ann revealing which were hers. Miss Lister shuffles around, lays her head in Ann’s lap. She smiles as Ann feeds her grapes. 

“Shall I be expected to feed you like this every time we meet?” smiles Ann, warmly.

“I have to say, I quite like being treat like some ancient God” Miss Lister replies. 

“I am Leander to your Hero, swimming across the seas!” Exclaims Ann, with a theatrical flourish.

“Surely more Ianthe to my Iphis?” responds Miss Lister

“Oh no, I think it would be I who would have to change. I wouldn't want you to change at all”

“You wouldn’t? Miss Browne once told me she wished I were a gentleman” Miss Lister looks at Ann, searching for a reaction. 

“I don’t want you to be a gentleman, Miss Lister. You are perfect as you are” The two look at one another. Quiet for a moment. 

“You really are the most curious girl, Miss Walker”

“As are you Miss Lister. Would you like a fig?”

Miss Lister remains on her back, head in Ann’s lap, eating a fig whilst Ann reads Byron’s verses. How she devours the fruit is terribly distracting. Watching her rip into it makes Ann’s mouth dry. She puts the book down, and starts to peel one of the oranges. She needs to drink. 

Miss Lister sits up, takes an orange herself, and rests at Ann’s side. Ann bites into her orange first, the juice running down her chin. Miss Lister leans across, puts a finger to her chin, lets the juice run over it, and licks it.

“You could lick it off of my chin” Ann looks down, away. Too forward.

“You'll get yourself into trouble, saying things like that” Miss Lister says, very quietly.

“What sort of trouble?” Ann looks at Miss Lister, her expression soft, her skin flushed, eyes bright.

“The sort that once it has begun, you will be powerless to stop”

“Well, then. Would that be a terrible thing?” Ann feels bold. A haughtiness to her words.

“Good heavens, girl! What are you doing to me?” Miss Lister rocks back, and laughs. 

Ann smiles. Miss Lister leans back into her, her hand lightly brushing Ann's back. Ann further leans into her, and they sit and finish the fruits off quietly, together, Ann placing slices of orange, or the occasional grape in Miss Lister’s mouth, so that she never needs to take her hand away. After the last piece of orange Ann feeds her, Miss Lister kisses her finger tips, their eyes locked. Once finished, Ann touches the back of Miss Lister’s hand, rested on the grass. 

“What shall we do now?”

“What would you like to do?”

Ann is silent. Waiting. It feels as though now should be the time Miss Lister should kiss her, if she was ever going to. Miss Lister moves across Ann, over her. Ann can’t breathe. Is this really happening? Ann lays on the grass, closes her eyes and waits. Nothing. A moment passes, and she opens them, to see Miss Lister sitting up, looking over at her. 

“I was picking up my hat, Miss Walker”

“Oh, I see” Ann is embarrassed again.

“Shall we head off to your estate? I can walk you to the boundary line?”

“Must we?” Ann doesn’t want their time together to end. 

“We shall have to at some point, my dear!”

They rise, Miss Lister helping Ann to her feet. They put their hats back on, and Ann collects her book and remaining oranges. Miss Lister takes her bag, and offers her arm. They make their way out to the gates, and down the lane to Crow Nest.

“Are you aware, Miss Lister” Ann tentatively begins “that Mrs Priestley has been visiting all the drawing rooms in Halifax these past weeks, telling people you won't marry, and what a shame that is”

“Has she. Hmm. Well, no. I don't intend to marry. I could never marry a man”

“No. Neither could I”

“Oh, but you will, dear girl, you will”

“No, I know myself better than most. I won't”

“And why ever not?”

“I think, possibly for the same reason as you, Miss Lister”

Miss Lister stops dead. Looks directly at Ann.

“I am not sure I understand what you are saying, my dear”

“You do understand” states Ann, confidently. “As do I. I have been reading Greek with Catherine Rawson. She's my cousin”

“Indeed she is! And what has Miss Rawson been teaching you?” Miss Lister’s eyes are fixed on Ann. Her head cocked, more than curious.

“Only what I already felt. About things. Catherine, she can read the words, but she doesn't understand their meaning. She reads aloud to me, and it's I who understands” Ann is amazed she has been able to explain herself.

“Well, I quite honestly do not know what to say, Miss Walker! You need to be careful with such revelations”

“Why? We are in private, are we not? And who else would I tell? Not Catherine. I'm quick witted enough not to fall into that trap”

“Are you? Well, that's something at least. I still cannot imagine why you have told me”

“Can't you? I understand that you have found a female companion, to live with you, when you inherit Shibden”

“Ah, well, yes. That's what Mrs Priestley has also been telling people, hmm? It's a good job I don’t care who knows this, isn't it?” She laughs.

“Yes, and Catherine? Well, she told me that you had said you would have £1,500 a year. Perhaps as much as £2,000. Well, I am sure my brother would offer a good annual allowance for me. My father is wealthy, Miss Lister as you know. Far wealthier even than Mr Stansfield Rawson”

“Yes, that is very true, but?” Miss Lister is confused. Why are they talking about her inheritance again?

“But? Yes, well. I just wanted to say, if you were mine, I, ah, well, I would never deny you anything. I would share my all with you. And I will have at least a £1,000 a year. Well, that's what I wanted to tell you. That's what I think you should know” Ann doesn’t take a breath until she has said all she wants to say. Isn’t this why she chased Miss Lister today? Why she had been waiting for her all week? 

Miss Lister stops again, turns and puts her hands on Ann's shoulders, holding her at arms length, Ann looking directly into her eyes. She sighs. 

“Miss Walker, you are, what? 15? 16?”

“No, Miss Lister! I am 18!” Disgruntled. 

“Oh, oh 18 is it? Well, still 18, hmmm? I am 30 years old, my dear. Far too old for you”

“No you are not! My father is much older than my mother. It doesn't matter. I think it’s how it should be. Both parties cannot be so young and inexperienced. Someone must lead”

“Yes, I see that is how it is for many. For my parents also. But not for me, Miss Walker. 18, well, that would be too young for me. Although I am, of course, terribly flattered. You are a charming girl. Excellent company! You will find your match one day. And this conversation will never be mentioned again, you can count on that”

“But!”

“No, Miss Walker. Let's not speak of your Greek translations with Miss Rawson again, hmmm? Such things are not for young minds. I'm not sure what I was thinking introducing Miss Rawson to such literature”

“No, I have to say I too had wondered that. Why did you?”

“Because it's fun! A silly joke, like hunting for passages where flatulence is mentioned, to help you get through your bible!”

“Ah, I see”

“Yes, well! You should take care, Miss Walker. People around here are terrible gossips. Be careful who you take into your confidence”

“I do hope I shall always have your confidence, Miss Lister”

“Oh, I you can be sure of that, Miss Walker”

Just as they approached the boundary, Ann was surprised by a short fence that shouldn’t be there. 

“I think this is perhaps your Father’s way of keeping you in, and the rest of us marauders out!” Miss Lister says, jovially. 

“Hmm, yes, it would see so. Ah, no matter! I can climb it!”  
Ann is filled with bravado. Until she kicks her leg over the other side, and hears a ripping sound.  
“Oh no! My dress!” The skirt has caught on a nail, and torn a piece up the back. Miss Lister frees it, but the damage has been done.

“It’s a good job your father has money for new dresses, Miss Walker” 

“Hmm, yes. Mother won’t like it, that is a certainty!”

“Well, good bye for now, Miss Walker. I shall look forward to our future walk”

“And to the tea. You did agree to come to take tea with me. And a walk”

“I did indeed. You can depend on that, I always keep my promises”

And with a salute, Miss Lister turns and walks back to the New Road, and back to her estate. 

Ann races back into the house, glowing. Her hair mostly pulled from the original style, pieces of muddied blonde curls plastered to her face and neck. Beaming with happiness, palms grazed, with dirt on her hands, dusty patches all over her dress, the skirt of which is torn down the back. Her shoes caked in mud.

Elizabeth is astonished.

“Ann, what has happened to you?”

“I have just spent the last hour and a half with Miss Lister. And Elizabeth! She is wonderful!”


	16. Dreams and Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monday 10 June 1822 [Halifax] At 5¾, set off in the gig… Went forward to Crownest. Mr & Mrs Stocks (Michael, the justice of Catherine Slack) got out of their chaise just before me. I therefore sent in to inquire after Mr Walker & the rest. Mrs Walker came to the door & I would not alight for fear of stumbling on their choice company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ann cannot understand why Miss Lister hasn't returned to take tea, and a walk to Giles House. She did suggest this excursion herself, didn't she?
> 
> Thank you for your uplifting comments! They really do help keep us writers on track!

Ann spends the next days, the next weeks, sketching Miss Lister. Miss Lister with her head laid in Ann's lap. The dappled summer evening light, and how it filtered through the trees. The creaminess of her skin, the rose hue of her lips, the brilliance in her eyes, how glossy her ringlets were that day. Ann remembers feeding her oranges, and how intimate it had felt. The soft wetness of the fruit, and the softer wetness of Miss Lister's mouth and lips. Ann felt Miss Lister consume her as well as the fruits. How she had kissed Ann's finger tips. How Ann had been convinced that this was to be a prelude to Miss Lister, finally, kissing her lips.

The way Miss Lister had collected the orange juice from Ann's lip and chin, and swallowed it herself. Ann couldn't have misinterpreted this, surely? When Ann had mentioned this to Elizabeth, it had made her sister blush furiously unable to even look at Ann. She later said, still unable to make eye contact, that she was shocked, and tried to explain just how forward the gesture was. Ann hadn’t realised Elizabeth would be react like that. She decided never to tell her about how she had fed Miss Lister orange slices and grapes, her fingers grazing Miss Lister’s mouth and lips, or the fingertip kisses, if merely licking orange juice away was so shameful. She chose not to tell Elizabeth how these actions had made her feel, the fire Miss Lister had stoked inside of her. How, when she lain down on the grass that evening, she had been prepared to yield all. Ann knows that her sister and her friends do not leave such details out about their encounters with the men they are being courted by. After her conversation with Miss Lister, Ann now feels acutely aware that her situation is very different, and she must learn to shield her feelings, even from Elizabeth. 

When after a month, Ann still hasn't seen or heard from Miss Lister, Ann wonders where she had gone wrong. She picks through the day meticulously, pouring over the whole eighty-five minutes she spent in Miss Lister’s esteemed company. Perhaps it has something to do with Ann being unwilling to jump down to the path below when they were in the woods? Could it be that this has shown her to be too weak, too pathetic for Miss Lister to consider her a friend? Or was it when she had laid on the grass, expecting to be kissed? Did Miss Lister find her too forward? Perhaps she imagines Ann would offer herself to anyone, if Ann would so willingly yield to her? Ann worries she will get a reputation for loose and unseemly behaviour. Surely Miss Lister won't tell anyone else? What if she did? No, Ann knows that she won’t. Still, Ann cannot understand why she hasn’t taken her up on her offer of tea. It really did seem, at the time, that she had meant to see Ann again. Yet, she hasn't even written to make an arrangement to walk to Giles House again. And that had been her suggestion, had it not?

Catherine resumes her visits to Ann, and Ann resumes her visits to Catherine. Since Catherine turned down the Lister’s offer of dinner at Shibden, Miss Lister hasn’t been to visit Catherine and her mother. These days, Ann has no idea if Miss Lister is even still in Halifax, and if she is elsewhere, when she might return. Catherine wishes that Ann wasn’t so interested in Miss Lister. She tells Ann that Miss Lister is a dangerous friend to have. Ann smiles as her cousin tells her this. Not so dangerous if Catherine had been happy to accept invitations to her home, she thinks. 

It’s in the days following Christmas that Ann finally sees Miss Lister again. She is hurtling into Halifax in the early afternoon in her gig, another woman seated next to her. Her companion expensively and beautifully dressed in a huge bonnet, long fur tippet, lace and ribbons. Ann is just approaching the New Road on her pony when the black gig, with Miss Lister driving, comes dashing around the corner. Ann felt the familiar butterflies take flight in her rib cage when she sees her. Miss Lister remains as impressive as ever. Even more so when Ann hears later that day that the gig had almost turned over, but she had righted it at the last minute, just as she had entered Halifax. Ann heard this news from a conversation the maids were having. They were appalled by Miss Lister’s unladylike manner, all agreed on how like a man she was, how fast she drove that gig around the town. Ann simply feels thrilled by it, wishing she had been there to see it, burning with jealousy that it hadn’t been she who had been in the gig with her. Perhaps Miss Lister really was dangerous? At least to go out driving with? No, she was simply magnificent. 

Come March, and Mother and Father have been writing to Miss Lister. Mother to encourage her to visit to take tea with them all, Father to encourage her to come over for dinner one evening. Ann was upset that Mother used Ann's interest in Miss Lister to attempt to foster a friendship of sorts with her, get in her good books, to encourage her to sell Northgate, so that Mr Edward Priestley might be set up there, in readiness to marry. Ann had been thrilled to spend time with Miss Lister at Crow Nest. And even now, Ann is in equal parts excited by the possibility of Miss Lister visiting them again, and annoyed with her mother for vying for Miss Lister’s attentions when she has been so unpleasant and awkward about Ann wishing to know her better herself. Ann mentions this to Mother, who quickly disuades her of any notion that her feelings with regards to the Lister’s and towards Miss Lister in particular have not changed at all. They would simply like to purchase Northgate House from Miss Lister, who had recently inherited it. Mother has a nephew who needs setting up in life. Northgate would be perfect. But, Miss Lister still does not come. Not for tea or for dinner. By the end of March, one of the Lister’s servants arrives with a note from Miss Lister. Sorry, but she declines the tea, and she declines the dinner. She also declines to sell Northgate. Her Father is to join her in Halifax, as is her sister and they are to live there. Ann wonders about Miss Lister’s sister. She will have to travel past Northgate in the summer, to see if she can spot her. Surely, there cannot soon be two Miss Lister’s in Halifax? Elizabeth informs Ann that she knows Marian Lister, and no, there are not two like Miss Lister. Marian is quite different. 

Now, when she dreamed of Miss Lister, the imagery came from her own memories. Miss Lister's hand in Ann's, the timbre of her voice, how her eyes shone when she laughed. How the early evening light had illuminated her skin. How her hair shone in the sun. How solid she had felt, as Ann slid down her body when Ann had jumped into her arms from the ridge. How her arms had felt under Ann's hands, as they walked arm in arm. How she had allowed Ann to touch her. To stroke her bicep as they had walked. To take her hand, close enough to study the ink stains. How intoxicating Ann had found her scent, rosemary and leather. How Ann’s insides had flipped over when their eyes locked. How Miss Lister had taken that drop of orange juice as it dripped from Ann's bottom lip, and swallowed it herself. How her head had felt in Ann's lap, weighted, warm, present. How her mouth had taken the orange segments, her soft lips brushing Ann’s fingers. How warm her lips were, how wet. Oh, so many images, so many intense emotions, so many erotic feelings, and each of them exciting alone, but together! Dear Lord! Oh, how Ann adored her. Loved her. Ann's dreams were now based in reality, were they not? When she was now alone, in her room. When she found herself under the covers, touching her heated core, her thoughts came from her memories. Surely, Miss Lister had to have felt the same? 

It was already just after 3pm when Father tells Elizabeth to make sure Ann is presentable for their guests this evening. He has invited Miss Lister, to try to force a deal on that house. It remains empty, Captain Lister and Marian seemingly beginning to move into Shibden with the rest of the Lister clan. The build and the location are just too good to miss. Perfect indeed for his young charge. When she arrives, he will bargain with her man to man. She should appreciate being treated just as roughly as he treats the men he brow-beats for a living. He suspects that she has more iron in her than her uncle. More of a man, at any rate. John Walker has already beaten James Lister in business, and now he shall beat Anne Lister. 

Elizabeth finds Ann in the music room, painting a fruit bowl. She is wearing her old dress with a paint splattered shawl. Ann is in her element, and Elizabeth is thankful she can lift her sister’s spirits even higher this evening. Elizabeth is shocked at Ann’s reaction. Ann is horrified. She does not want Miss Lister to have to deal with her Father. Ann knows that they are rich because he never plays fair. But, she now has the chance to see her again. At Crow Nest. To ask, perhaps, should she get the opportunity, why she hasn’t been to see her. It’s been almost a year now to the very day. 

Ann has her maid run her a bath, she has her dress her for an evening guest. Ann is demanding about how her hair is to be dressed, the combs, flowers and ribbons used. Ann is far more demanding of her maid than is usual, and the maid wonders which of the evening visitors Ann’s efforts are for. Mr Walker has invited Miss Lister, and Mrs Walker, she has the Stocks coming for tea, the girls to join both parties. The maid thinks slyly that she knows. She has seen a book of sketches in this very room, every one of them of Anne Lister. It would seem that young Miss Walker is fixated with the strange older woman. A woman of a lesser Christian nature might suggest that it’s these drawings, together with Miss Walker’s imagination that mean that her sheets are to be changed far more regular than is usual, sometimes twice in a week.

6pm finds Ann Walker pinned to the window, watching for any movement on the approach to Crow Nest. She is looking either for a solitary black figure striding up the gravel, or a black gig darting up the drive. The first movement is neither. A green chaise. Not Miss Lister. That will be The Stocks for Mother, tiresome people that they are. She and Elizabeth have been asked to spend 10 minutes with them. Father hasn’t given a specific amount of time he expects them to spend with him and Miss Lister. Surely, they shall be smoking and drinking whisky in the games room? That is where Father generally meets his guests. He likes to introduce them to his card table, for them to lose a few hands first. He likes them to see the remains of the game he has shot in the wild, as their heads adorn his walls. But no, Father is in the library. And it’s tea, of course. Not whisky. His guest is a lady, after all. 

Almost as soon as she spots The Stocks, she sees the gig racing towards the house. The Stocks have only just alighted, when Miss Lister’s wheels are spraying the gravel all around. Her horse stopping sharply. Ann’s heart is in her mouth. Miss Lister even drives her gig with more style than any of the men in the area. Her greatcoat billowing behind her, like Boadicea going into battle. Everything about her is impressive. Ann sees her speak to one of their man servants, and so Ann bounces down the stairs, preparing herself to greet her. 

When Ann gets to the hallway, she is in time to see Miss Lister drive away at speed, gravel spinning in the air. What has happened? Father is angry. Not with Miss Lister, but with Mother. When she hears why, so is Ann. Miss Lister had left upon seeing The Stocks. She had imagined she would have to meet with them, and they are simple people who mother enjoys chatting with. Their lowly social status is likely what has put Miss Lister off. Father hisses under his breath that she might be a damned jack, but that at least she has taste in who she associates with. Mother is quiet. She will have to answer for her mistake later. She returns to her party, Elizabeth follows, enjoying the chatter and the cakes. Ann returns to her room, deflated. Miss Lister’s taste in associates clearly does not include The Stocks, but neither does it include Ann. 

Ann suddenly realises that the main reason for the wall of silence is the fact she told Miss Lister she would deny her nothing, if she were hers. Such a mad declaration for someone you barely know was clearly far too much for Miss Lister to deal with. Ann is bereft. What a fool she has been?


	17. The Coach Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunday March 17th 1822 Halifax  
> I went with Mrs, and the 2 Miss Walkers in the carriage to Crow Nest, and staid there till their dinner hour at one - then walked home, the rain rather increased there otherwise, and it turned out a rainy afternoon. It seems an acknowledged thing that Ann Walker is the favourite with me of the two and she seems to have no objection but is very attentive.
> 
> The real Sam Sowden wasn’t a drunk, but he was a trouble causer in Anne Lister’s eyes, as he was what might now be termed a Trade Unionist and actively railed against her Conservative politics. This was an era that saw the army deployed on the streets to fight the angry protestors from the working classes, who were seeking social change having been oppressed for so long. Sowden also had great ambitions for his children; his son Sutcliffe Sowden left Halifax to attend Cambridge University. Sutcliffe returned to the Yorkshire Ridings, and became a vicar. Fun fact! He officiated at the marriage of Charlotte Brontë and Arthur Bell Nicholls in 1854.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am truly sorry how long this new chapter has taken, but I believe I am finally back on track!!! 
> 
> This one really ought to be Chapter 16, with the previous Chapter 17. I have only recently seen this entry thanks to the army of codebreakers on Twitter, and I just couldn't resist it!
> 
> Dia dos Namorados!

It wasn’t unusual for Ann to wake early on Sunday mornings. She and her family ate breakfast at 7.30am, a communal affair with Father, and with John there too whenever he was home. She always liked to take her time washing and dressing for Church, ensuring her maid styled her hair just so. So it really wasn’t so unusual when she awoke at 6.30am, and filled with energy, and was out of bed and washed before breakfast. It wasn’t unusual, no. But today, Ann could swear there was an extra frisson in the air. At 7am, she was in the garden, wandering around the expansive grounds and enjoying the crisp morning air. The weather had been unseasonably cold this week, and the skies were threatening another storm to match the one that had happened just days ago. The lawns were a riddle of mud and dew, the grass soaking her slippers as she walked, making the toes of her stockings damp. Ann was in her element, seeing the last of the crocuses and snowdrops, and the first of the daffodils, and the green shoots of bluebells. The leaves unfurling on the apple trees, blossoms dotting the greenery of the orchard, promising an excellent crop for the autumn. Ann adored the spring flowers, and made mental notes which areas of the garden she would return to in order to sketch. 

Things had been moving on quickly for Ann. At just 16 years of age she had begun teaching the children at St Matthew’s Sunday School, and at only 18 years old, she had begun a reading circle for local children through the Lightcliffe Sunday School. In just a few hours, she will be in the church hall, with 40 or perhaps even more, dishevelled children in her thral, and as it is three weeks before Easter, many of the children there will be preparing for confirmation. Ann is just too happy to be able to help them, and to guide them in their faith. 

She, with Elizabeth’s assistance, had also found three benefactors in the shape of their cousin, Mr William Priestley, who had always supported the arts in Halifax, as well as their cousin Mr Christopher Rawson, banker and magistrate of the town, and elderly Mrs Rawson, mother to their cousin Christopher, grandmother to their cousin Catherine, and matriarch of their wider tribe of relations. Between the three of them, they now supported Ann and Elizabeth’s ambition to offer a preparatory education to as many of the local children as was possible with the books that they had at their disposal. Ann was convinced that an educated workforce would be more useful to theirs, and every other estate in the area as time went on, and thankfully, her brother John, and Mr Edward Priestley, who was relishing his position as Elizabeth’s suitor, had agreed with her estimation. Mr Edward Priestley liking the idea so much, he had initially tried to pass it off as his own. Ann wasn’t sure if this had annoyed her more than it pleased her, or pleased her more than it annoyed her, but he had swiftly backed off from ‘helping’ the Walker sisters when he had asked Miss Anne Lister, and received a curt ‘no’ for his troubles. When Ann and Elizabeth had gone to Father for support initially, he said that it would not do to encourage the tenant’s children to start desiring a life beyond their reach. When Miss Lister turned them down, she had said almost the very same thing. Ann knew that they were both wrong. No matter how important her Father was, or how educated Miss Lister was, Ann knew that she was right. She could see the fruits of her labours ripening already. Some of the boys she taught were incredibly intelligent. Surely, the Sowden boy could attend any university he wrote to? Ann has high hopes for young Sowden, and others too. After her walk with Miss Lister last summer, Ann knew that she ought to have asked Miss Lister herself. Ann would have been able to convince her, she was sure of it, but really by then it was too late.

Anne Lister really was wonderful company. Just being in her presence was intoxicating. But, seeing as the promised walk to Giles House to see the greenhouses had yet to materialise, Ann had contented herself with the fact it was said, and that Miss Lister had appeared to genuinely want to meet with her again at the time she said it. Walking under the canopy of trees in the orchard reminded Ann of their walk through the woods. Ann now often dreamed of being lost in Cunnery Woods with Miss Lister in the evening light, the darkness disorientating even her guide, who knew her land inside out. In the dream, it’s now that they sit to eat, balancing on the trunk of a felled tree. Ann sitting so close to Miss Lister, their thighs brush beneath their skirts. Oranges exploding in their hands and mouths, ending with Miss Lister sucking the juice from her fingers, and kissing them. And then, upon seeing the juice on Ann’s lip, using her own lips to wick it away. It’s then that she lays Ann on a blanket of bluebells, saying that they would need to keep warm if they were to be out in the woods all night. How the older woman’s body feels against hers no longer simply sprung from her fantasies. Ann now knew exactly what it felt like to have her body pressed against Miss Lister, she had slid down Miss Lister’s immovable body when she ‘jumped’ from the embankment. She feels solid, strong, rooted, secure. Ann remembers her shoulders, her arms. The feel of them, and how touching them had made her tremble inside. The tableau of her erotic dreams is now far more realistic than it used to be, now that she knows more about Miss Lister’s body, and how hers instantly reacts to it. Ann recalls an incredible fluttering sensation she had felt deep inside of her, when their bodies had, albeit momentarily, been pressed so closely together. How she had wanted Miss Lister to touch her, to take her, there under the trees, Byron’s verse ringing in her ears. Large drops of rain, accumulated in the trees, begin to fall onto Ann’s head, her hair at risk of ruin. She races as quickly as she can back to the safety of the house.

When Ann returned to the house, she saw that she had been out far longer than she ought, and it was now 7.45am, 15 minutes into the Walker’s Sunday breakfast. No time to change her stockings and slippers, she enters the dining room with wet feet, and squelches over Mother’s Oriental rugs, to her seat. Mother has heard the sounds of her sodden feet slapping on the fine wool, but says nothing. Father, now hard of hearing, hears nothing at all. Elizabeth looks down, and continues eating her toast. 

“I’m sorry to be so late” Ann says, attempting a winning smile towards her Mother, her Father. Mother nods. Father turns:

“And why are you -” he looks at the clock on the mantle in front of him “fifteen minutes late?”

“I woke early, but I went for a walk in the gardens. Up to the orchard” Ann replies, nervously. 

“I see. And in this weather? Is your aim to become an invalid with a chest weak enough to match your spine?”

Ann doesn’t reply. There is no answer that would be good enough. She sits, and eats after her breakfast is served to her. Another Sunday morning at the Walker household, where the tea is drunk, and the buttered toast and boiled eggs are eaten in complete silence. Ann clears her mind. She silently hopes Father doesn’t join them at Church today. Their family had built St Matthew’s as their local church, so Father says that this means he can be excused from committing to weekly attendance. His business needs too urgent to leave for two hours, once a week. Ann looks at her Mother, and sees the toll marrying a man in trade brings. This life, Ann is determined, will never be foisted upon her. 

Ann, Mother and Elizabeth head off to Lightcliffe in their carriage alone. Father announcing as breakfast was cleared that he would be too busy to attend with them, that he shall stay at home in his office. As they stepped outside, it was clear the weather was taking a turn for the worse, the skies blackening, the wind picking up fast, bending the trees, stripping them of their newest leaves and branches. Ann, now changed again from the muddied dress and slippers she wore at breakfast into something even more splendid, is most pleased, and eager to see her class for Sunday School. She had carefully applied her foundation, blush and lip stain, a stick of kohl lightly applied to her eye lids. She had even doused herself in rose perfume. Her dress, her appearance all important now she has found a position in society. Elizabeth had stared at her as they had descended the stairs to leave, but said nothing. Ann had smiled, but it is tinged with sadness for her sister. So much between them now goes unsaid. Ann bitterly aware of how little she can say, and how this is driving a divide between them. Elizabeth is deadly quiet at the moment. Father is planning for her to be matched with Mr Edward Priestley, and has designs on buying Northgate House from Miss Lister, as she has recently inherited it. He has announced to both Elizabeth and to her suitor, their cousin, that the property would make the perfect home for them. Elizabeth is quietly devastated, her wants never coming into question. Ann is sad for her, and quietly dreads the day that Father will try to force her into a marriage she doesn’t want. She hopes she will always have more fight in her than Elizabeth has. Now, as she looks at her older sister, she could weep for her.  
Elizabeth will be with Mother, and Aunt Ann, in their private pew. Ann away with the children, feeling useful, and grateful. Here is a place that is hers, and the confidence her position has instilled in her has only grown. Mrs William Priestley had left the Sunday School in her capable hands two years ago, in order to devote herself to the small day school she had founded. Ann now has her own assistant, Eliza, the daughter of a man who works for Father. A bright, and very pretty girl of fourteen, who is in awe of Miss Walker. And who tries to spend as much time with Miss Walker as she can, preparing for the week ahead. Ann wasn’t sure of it at first, but she is almost certain that the young woman’s interest in her is more than platonic. Ann is now professional, but no longer friendly. As flattering as it is, it wouldn’t do to encourage the girl, their stations in life being so far apart. 

By the time the Walker ladies arrive at St Matthew’s, the heavens have truly opened. Rain lashing the sides of the carriage as they are helped down by their footman, and are forced to run inside. Ann checks her gown as soon as she is indoors. Her slippers and skirt are damp with the cold rain, but her hair has been protected by her bonnet, and her jacket has kept the top half of her dress dry. She takes her jacket off as she pushes the solid oak door to enter the Sunday School room. Eliza is already there, as are most of the children she had expected this week, each seated in silence, expectantly. The windows were steaming up, Ann noticed, where the cool air outside meets the warm, damp bodies within. More like autumn than Easter. Ann smiles warmly, and greets the room. She walks across to her desk, hanging her coat over the hook on the wall behind, and with that, the lesson begins. 

Mother and Aunt Ann were taking time speaking with the vicar as Ann emerged from her classroom. She had let the children go straight away, as the rain had been thrashing the windows throughout the lesson, and had slowed just as it was ending. Eliza had offered to stay to pack up, but Ann had insisted she go before the rain started again. Ann had a carriage to take her home, Eliza did not. After Ann had locked away their materials for next week, she left the room to find her mother and sister. Her Mother and Aunt Ann were deep in conversation with the vicar. Elizabeth was stood just behind them, waiting patiently. Her family and the clergyman were the only ones left. It was clear that Mother was holding back from leaving, and that bought Ann back down to earth, after a particularly exhilarating lesson on Holy Week. This morning had felt full of promise. She had worn her favourite yellow dress and matching carriage jacket, with gold threaded ribbons in her golden hair, and gold threaded slippers on her dainty feet. It really had felt as though it was a day where anything could happen. Now what lay ahead of her was an afternoon with a subdued Elizabeth, and dinner with Father and Mother. Perhaps Aunt Ann would come home with them? But almost as soon as this thought comes to her, Aunt Ann has her hands in hers, and is saying goodbye. Ann will visit her in the week. Kisses are given, and the Reverend is walking the Walker ladies ever closer to the door, and to their waiting footman and the open carriage door. 

Elizabeth sits next to Ann, with Mother seated opposite facing the driver’s window, as their carriage tore through the mud and the rain, carrying them safe and dry back to Crow Nest. Ann presses herself into the corner, occasionally glancing at Elizabeth who is silent as she so often is these days, dreading what the rest of the day will bring. Back in the school room, she controls the space, dictates what lessons shall be learned and how. At home, Father dictates. And sometimes that’s terrifying. They are half way down the Coach Road, when suddenly animated, Mother is knocking on the dividing screen, shouting for the groom to stop. Mother, facing ahead, has seen what her daughters could not. Miss Anne Lister, walking alone in the rain. Mrs Walker has seen an opportunity she could not miss. It would make her husband happier too, being able to secure this sale, and he has been a very difficult man recently. With Northgate on their minds, and Ann, who clearly idolises Miss Lister, so well put together today, perhaps a ride back in the dry will make Miss Lister more amenable to the idea of selling to them? 

Elizabeth and Ann look up towards Mother confused, as the carriage slows and stops, right next to Miss Anne Lister. Miss Lister had been striding along the main road, in the pelting rain, wearing a tall beaver skin hat and a black, waxed greatcoat. Her face was wet, but the rain was running off of her clothing. Ann finds herself suddenly looking at her, wet yet smiling, and suddenly, in the cramped carriage with her mother and sister, she can’t breathe, her heart blasting out through her chest. As the carriage door is flung open by Mother, Ann hears Mother asking Miss Lister to join them, Ann feels her face and neck flush. Burning with embarrassment. It happens so quickly, as suddenly Mother is wrenching Elizabeth out of her seat, and Miss Lister is climbing into the carriage with them, and sitting next to Ann. 

“Oh Miss Lister! What a day!” exclaims Mother, suddenly animated, and far more friendly and amiable than she has ever been before “Are you heading back to Shibden? We are just too glad to take you. Or wherever you would like!”

“Ah,” Miss Lister removes her hat, and smiles at Mother, Elizabeth, and settling on Ann, she replies “wherever you are happy to take me!”  
Ann can’t make eye contact. Her face burns under Miss Lister’s gaze “Shibden will be perfect!” Miss Lister states, finally addressing, and smiling at, Mother again.

“Perhaps you would like to join us for tea? And our coachman can take you home a little later?” Mother enquires, boldly. 

Ann’s eyes shoot up to her Mother. What if Mss Lister says yes? What will Ann do then? What if she says no?

“Well, that would be lovely” Miss Lister says, her gaze finding Ann, with Ann at long last meeting her eyes. 

“I should thank you again for walking me home, last summer” Ann speaks, but her voice is merely a breath louder than a whisper.  
“Not at all, Miss Walker. I am sure the pleasure was mine” and with that, Miss Lister lays her hand on Ann’s wrist as it lies in Ann’s lap. Ann cannot take her eyes from where Miss Lister is touching her. The warmth from Miss Lister’s skin covering hers. She can barely breathe, her heart thundering in her ears. 

“I really must say, the curl in your hair has stood up well considering the rain, Miss Walker. You must tell me how you manage to keep it just so in all weathers” 

Miss Lister’s words stun Ann. She nods, blushing furiously, still staring at where their bodies are connected. Surely Miss Lister can see the effect she is having over her young neighbour? Surely Mother and Elizabeth must wonder at her reactions? The rest of the journey passes in a blur, Miss Lister’s hand only lifted from hers as they, finally, come to a stop at the entrance to Crow Nest. 

Ann finds herself being helped down by Miss Lister, after Mother and Elizabeth have already exited the carriage. It takes all of Ann’s energy to look her in the eye. Ann is utterly besotted. Any annoyance that a return to Giles House never materialised has faded. Miss Lister is here now, and she is focusing all of her attention on Ann. 

“Thank you” is all Ann can manage, once both her gold slippers are on the wet gravel. 

The rain slowed to a drizzle. She takes Miss Lister’s offered arm, and places her other hand momentarily on Miss Lister’s firm bicep. Only removing it when they enter the hallway, to find Father standing there. Swaying slightly with drink. His face changes when he sees they have returned with company. He manages a smile when he sees who that company is. 

“Miss Lister was walking home in the rain, and so we offered to take her, and well, here we are!” Mother rambles a little, nervous when she sees how close Miss Lister already is to her youngest, but more nervous to see her husband drunk and waiting for her return home. 

“Miss Lister. I hope you are well?” Father speaks loudly, and his voice is louder still under the influence of the whisky, amplified in the hallway. 

“Very well!” their guest exclaims, reaching to shake Mr Walker’s hand, not actually leaving Ann’s side.

“Good, good, well, I shall be upstairs” Father glares at Mother, an unreadable message passing between them. The air heavy with his presence, Ann finds herself shrinking into their guest, wishing herself invisible.  
Their footman appears as Father ascends the staircase, taking Miss Lister’s hat and coat, and Mother’s request for tea and biscuits. 

“Well then, shall we sit in the drawing room for our tea?” Mother ushers her girls and their guest ahead of her, watching as Ann takes Miss Lister’s arm once again. 

Elizabeth opens the door to enter, only now aware that Ann is on Miss Lister’s arm, stunned at how obvious her sister is being. She looks at Ann dumbfounded. Ann doesn’t look at her at all, as she glides into the room on air, thrilled to be so close to the woman she has doted on for years. Ann feels that she could do almost anything when she is near Miss Lister, and with the knowledge that her parents aim to keep Miss Lister on side, so keen to buy Northgate, Ann smiles to herself. She wonders how long her Mother will be happy for her to spend time with Miss Lister. If Miss Lister declines the sale, this might be the only chance she will get so she aims to make the most of it. She just needs to compose herself, enjoy the tea, and the proximity to her idol. As she sits on a sofa covered in Japanese silk, Miss Lister immediately sits next to her, their skirts brushing together. Mother seat across from them, smiles a fixed smile in their direction. 

“So, Miss Lister! How are things at Shibden Hall? Are your Uncle and Aunt well?”

“Yes, thank you Mrs Walker. Both of them are quite well. And you? How are you, Mrs Walker?” Miss Lister’s tone is soothing, as she sits forwards, closing the space between herself and Mother. So, Miss Lister could feel the tension with Father too? What must she imagine goes on in this house? No wonder she wants as little to do with us as is possible, thinks Ann, suddenly low. 

“Ah, quite well. Yes. Thank you” Mother’s reply is stilted, telling their guest that all indeed was not well. Miss Lister smiles warmly at Mother, and Ann sees her Mother wilt a little under the soft gaze. Ann smiles. Their guest is capable of lifting even the most tired spirit. Even Mother’s. 

The maid knocks, and Mother calls her in. The tea tray placed on a table to the side of Mother. She looks across at Ann, and smiles.

“Ann, why don’t you serve today?” Mother requests.

“Oh, yes, of course” and Ann is on her feet, pouring tea first for Miss Lister, their fingers stroking against one another as she passes her a cup and saucer. The lightening that travels through to Ann leaves her light headed, and slightly unstable. She almost tips the cake onto Miss Lister’s lap, her hand shaking as she offers the plate. 

“Thank you, Miss Walker” Miss Lister murmurs, fixing Ann with her eyes. Ann blushes again, unsure how she will get through the next however long. She serves tea and cake to Mother and Elizabeth with more success, Elizabeth’s eyes boring into her as she returns to sit next to the object of her girlish affections.

Mother starts to discuss the weather, and how cool the air had been recently. Miss Lister joins in, in an attempt to explain something about how changes in air pressure affect the temperature. Ann sits, sipping her tea, and watches how Miss Lister speaks, always with authority, and yet with a gentleness in her manner too. Mother sits listening too, and appears more comfortable in Miss Lister’s presence than she ever has. Her kindness melting Mother’s resolve. Miss Lister leans forward again, this time to explain something about how the weather has shortened the rhubarb season. Mother seems relaxed and truly engaged in a conversation for the first time in a long time. Ann is thrilled. Perhaps today heralds a new feeling between the Walker’s and the Lister’s? Perhaps Ann will soon be able to call on Miss Lister as easily as she calls on Catherine? Wouldn’t that be marvellous? 

Ann is busy building castles, imagining a situation where the two families are united. But how? And for what purpose? Elizabeth once asked Ann if she wished Miss Lister were a man, and no, she didn’t. It wasn’t that. But it would be nice, to be able to have Miss Lister to tea, as Elizabeth has Mr Edward Priestley. 

“Ann!” Mother’s voice is raised, and Ann realises that both Miss Lister and Elizabeth are staring at her. 

“Oh, yes?” Ann replies meekly. She looks at Mother, but can feel Miss Lister’s calming gaze at her side. 

“I was suggesting that you show Miss Lister you art, whilst she is here to see us”

“My art?” Ann’s heart stops. What art? What does she really have to show?

“Oh yes, Miss Walker! I do recall you telling me about a series of paintings and sketches you have made. Perhaps we could start with those?” Miss Lister smiles, almost a knowing smile. She cannot know, can she?

“In the library, Ann? The botanical works, in the library. Go, take Miss Lister to see them!” Mother is getting impatient. Ann’s head is spinning. “She isn’t usually so bashful with her art, Miss Lister, You will see why. You are rather good, aren’t you, Ann?” Says Mother, more kindly.

“Of course” Miss Lister stands when Ann does. Ann leading them out of the room, her hands slippery with perspiration when she goes to open the door. 

“Here, let me” Miss Lister is immediately there, over her shoulder, her hand replacing Ann’s on the door handle. Ann’s heart in her mouth. Again, so unbearably close. “Thank you” Ann manages to husk, her voice hitching in her throat.

In the hallway, Ann goes straight to Miss Lister’s side, and takes her arm although it wasn’t offered. Miss Lister smiles at her. 

“Your Mother must feel you are my favourite. However must she have come to that conclusion?” Miss Lister whispers conspiratorially against the ringlets closest to her ear, the whole of Ann’s body reacting in goosebumps. 

“Do you think so? Am I?” Ann replies, shocked, yet bold.

“Well, of course. You are the reason I agree to visit here, after all”

“I thought you were keeping out of the rain” Ann says, and smiles her eyes lowering. 

“Well, I don’t mind the weather myself. But then I do not have to worry about pretty silk dresses, and gold threaded slippers”

“Ah, no. Of course. It must be said, Miss Lister. You certainly know how to dress for the weather” replies Ann, feeling more confident in the conversation. 

“I like to be prepared. One never knows where the day will take you” 

Ann opens the door to the Library, and ushers her guest inside, closing the door behind them. As soon as they are inside, door closed shut, Miss Lister stops still.

“So, Miss Walker, the botanicals? These are not the paintings you spoke of on our walk last summer, are they? Or are the flora and fauna your hearts’ true desire?”

“Ah, what a memory you have Miss Lister! Of course, the flora in our grounds do instil the muse within me. But you are quite right. Those paintings, well, you are the only other to know of their existence. But even with that, I couldn’t show them to you”

“Oh, Miss Walker! How coy you are over your young man!”

“I think I told you before, Miss Lister. The paintings are not of a young man. I do not have a young man. Nor do I wish to”

“Not every marriage is difficult, you know” Ann looks at Miss Lister. Is she referring to Mother and Father? Her expression reveals little.

“I believe that that would, for me, be inevitable. Regardless of the character of the fellow”

“Ah. Yes. I recall you saying something along those lines when we last met”

“When we last met, you wicked away the juice from an orange, as it traced down my chin. And drank it yourself”

“Did I! Good Lord! I can be a rascal! I do hope, my dear, that you will you accept my apology?”

“Are you to also apologise for not taking me with you to Giles House. As you had promised?”

“Oh, right well yes! Once the summer has settled in, we should do that. Of course” 

“Good. Good!” Ann looks up. From now on, she is determined she will always maintain eye contact with Miss Lister. She shows Miss Lister to a seat nearest the window. The skies are dark, but the rain almost stilled outside. The conversation in full flow, agreeable, pleasant. Miss Lister telling her about how her sister and Father will shortly be joining her in Halifax. Perhaps at Shibden. More likely at Northgate. Ann responds with a question about this new Miss Lister, and Miss Lister scoffs but without further explanation. Ann never mentioning her families designs on the property. Ann starts to pull sketches, watercolours and pastels out of their respective binders. Passing them slowly to Miss Lister for her perusal, a simple explanation of each, responding to any and every question. The scene companionable. Domestic. Ann dreams of feeding Anne Lister tea and cake, before retiring in the evening to look at her sketches. What a silly girl she is, Ann thinks to herself. Yet, the idea fills her heart with joy.

“These really are marvellous, Miss Walker. Truly exquisite detailing. I can only imagine how incredible your portraits must be” Ann can no longer look at her. Her face burning. 

“I don’t do portraits. Not yet. And please, surely, it’s Ann”

“Hmm. I think rather it is Miss Walker, yes?” And with that, a little of Ann’s day dream dies. 

“Of course. Miss Lister” Ann replies stiffly. Standing, just as the door opens immediately after a swift knock. It’s Elizabeth. Mother wanted to remind Ann that it was almost 1pm. Would Miss Lister like to stay with them for lunch?

“Oh, no, I really couldn’t. Thank you so much for a lovely interlude, and a carriage ride out of the rain!” Miss Lister stands, and waits for Ann to put her paintings away carefully, and the three leave the room together. 

On their return to Mother, Miss Lister makes swift excuses, and the footman brings her hat and coat, both now dry. Mother offers for the coachman to return Miss Lister to her home. She laughs, no, no that won’t be necessary. See? The rain has ceased. A rainbow breaking through the darkest clouds appears to herald a new chapter in the day. Miss Lister laughs, her joyful spirit lifting the dour Walker drawing room, if only momentarily. For in a moment, she is gone. Ann watches her stride over the gravel, remaining by the door, staring out until she is long out of sight. Elizabeth eventually coming to collect her. Dinner is being served. Father is still in his room, having his there. Lunch today will be easier, at least. Elizabeth smiles at Ann. 

“I think it’s wonderful how bold you are, when you are with Miss Lister” Elizabeth whispers. “I wish I were similarly inspired by Edward. But really, I am not and I never will be. That feeling. It isn’t there”

“No. I know. But the deal isn’t done yet, Elizabeth. You still have time to bring Mother to your way of thinking”

“You say that, Ann, but who will bring Father round?”

“I think Miss Lister will, when she fails to sell him that house!” Ann shares a smile with Elizabeth that threatens to break out into a grin. As the two sisters close the door, the heavens open. The two, safe indoors head to the dining room, arm in arm.


End file.
